#i love him but I want him to grow up finally

[lostfracturess]

say it again — satoru gojo x f!reader

you've been married to satoru gojo for so long, but you've kept it quiet, so you can imagine his satisfaction at finally hearing you call him "husband" in public.

You've managed to keep your marriage to Satoru Gojo under wraps for nearly two year now. It isn't that you're ashamed—far from it.

Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers simply comes with complications, especially given his clan's tendency to meddle in everything.

So you both agreed to keep it quiet. No flashy announcements, no public displays, just you and him. Sure, it means wearing your ring on a chain under your clothes and careful planning for your living arrangements, but it's worth it for the peace and quiet.

That is, until you slip up at the most mundane possible moment.

You're both at an official appointment regarding some property documentation. The clerk has been droning on about paperwork when she asks about your relationship to Satoru for the forms.

"Oh, he's my husband," you reply absently, still scanning the documents in front of you.

The scratching of Satoru's pen stops abruptly. You look up to find him staring at you with the most ridiculous expression—somewhere between absolutely delighted and utterly self-satisfied.

"What was that?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face.

You blink, realizing what you've just said. "I mean—"

"No, no, say it again." His eyes are practically shining now. "What am I to you?"

"Satoru," you warn, very aware of the confused clerk watching your exchange.

"Come on," he says, leaning closer. "One more time. What am I?"

"We're in public," you hiss, but you can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.

"Please?" He bats his eyelashes at you in that ridiculous way of his. "For your beloved husband?"

"You're impossible," you mutter, but you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly perfect as your husband?"

The clerk clears her throat. "Should I... put down 'married' then?"

"Yes!" Satoru answers before you can. "Put down that I am this wonderful person's husband. Their spouse. Their better half. Their—"

"She gets it," you cut him off.

But Satoru isn't done. For the rest of the appointment, he manages to work the word "husband" into nearly every sentence. "As her husband, I think we should sign here." "My lovely spouse and I would like copies of that." "Do you need both myself and my better half to initial this?"

By the time you leave the office, you're ready to strangle him.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you say as you walk to the car.

"Can you blame me?" He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It's not every day I get to hear you call me your husband in public. Usually it's all 'this is Satoru' or 'we're together' or my personal favorite, 'yes, I do unfortunately know him.'"

You roll your eyes, but can't help leaning into him. "You know why we keep it quiet."

"I know, I know. The clan would be insufferable." He presses a kiss to your temple. "But maybe we should tell them anyway? Can you imagine their faces when they find out we've been married this whole time?"

"They'll have our heads for this."

"Perhaps. But you have to admit, the thought is tempting. No more sneaking around, no more hiding that ring." He catches your hand, thumb brushing over where your ring should be. "I want everyone to know exactly who you are to me. And what I am to you. What was it again?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Come on," he coaxes, "just say it once more."

You pretend to consider it. "And what do I get out of this?"

"My eternal love and devotion?" He gives you a long look. "And I'll do the dishes for a week."

"You're supposed to do those anyway," you point out, but he's already pulling you closer, that insufferable smirk of his growing wider.

"Say it again, love," he says, and the way he looks at you then—eyes soft and full of adoration—makes your breath catch in your throat.

All your defenses melt away under that gaze, the one he reserves just for you, the one that makes you forget why you ever try to deny him anything.

"Husband," you breathe, and feel him tense slightly against you.

"Just like that," he whispers. "Though I prefer when you add my name to it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

"That's what I do best," he says. "Besides, my darling wife, I think you secretly love it when I am."

The way he says 'wife' sends a shiver down your spine—something you know he notices from the satisfied look in his eyes. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly yours," he corrects, and despite his playful tone, there's something sincere in his gaze. "What do you say? Ready to scandalize some elders?"

Looking at him now, you can't remember why you ever wanted to keep this secret. "With you? Always."

He doesn't wait for more, just leans in and captures your lips with his, and you think maybe going public isn't such a terrible idea after all.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

in his corner

words: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, boxer!rafe, established relationship, p in v sex, semi public sex, violence but not in great detail, unprotected sex, mentions of rafes anger issues

rafes head is down as you step into the locker room. it's dark and gloomy, no need for bright lights that just illuminate the blood and grime more.

the fleeting sunlight peeking in through the windows only casts light upon the dust floating in the room as you close the door behind you, causing rafe to finally look up.

his eyes shift from pure focus to something softer. “hey.” his voice is still low, slightly hoarse from not speaking most of the day.

“hey.” you move the rest of the way into the room, your footsteps sounding thunderous in the silence that always cloaks the gym before a fight, especially one like this.

“ill be safe.” you see a hint of humor in his eyes now as you roll yours. you always tell rafe to stay safe before a fight, it's become such an expectation that he beats you to it.

“do you have your gloves?” you ask, looking towards his gym bag, wanting to rifle through it to make sure rafe has everything he needs, even though you packed it for him.

“of course.” rafe smiles, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs and pulling you closer into him, his forehead pressing against your stomach.

“you're nervous for this one.” rafe states. he doesn't need to ask, he can tell just by your energy, the way your breathing is more frantic, your eyes opened ever so slightly wider than normal.

“im not the one in the ring.” you hum, hand coming to the back of his neck, stroking over his hairline, taming it despite knowing it's only a few minutes before it's going to get messed up again, either by rafe rubbing at it or the opponent.

“i know.” rafe looks up at you, a soft smile on his face. “but ya love me.”

“mmm, unfortunately.” you joke, a smile flashing across your lips before you drop your head to press your mouths against rafe, the kiss hungry and desperate, knowing it may be your last for a while if rafe gets his lip busted open.

“okay-” rafe sighs, pulling away, restraint in his voice as his insides call to continue kissing you. “it's almost time. love you.”

“love you too.” you back away but keep your eyes locked with rafe until your back is pressed up against the door. “win for me.”

you step out, eyes flickering around his team, waiting in the hallway for you, knowing better than to interrupt your moment with rafe.

“he's ready.” you nod to rafes coach before ducking out of the way as they file into the locker room.

you can hear the noise of the crowd grow as you walk into the arena, rows of seats all facing towards the central octagon. none of the security stops you to ask for a ticket as you walk to the front, rafe has become a headliner at the boxing gym, and you a vip along with it.

you take your seat, a coveted one, right in rafes corner. you know he has supporters, and while you appreciate most of them, the female ones who fawn over him anger you every time they shout his name or try to give him their number, but his quick shut down of advances always washes away the brief resentment.

“hey y/n.” rafes coaches brother, lewis, sits next to you, your de facto personal bodyguard. you insisted you didn't need someone looking over you, but rafe was always worried about a fight starting in the crowd. it certainly wouldn't be the first one that has broken out at a boxing gym.

“hi lewis.” you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and lean back in your seat as the prematch comes out, beginner fighters to keep all the early attendees from getting impatient while the crowd grows and seats fill.

overall, it's a professional arena. not on a pro level by any standards, but the best you can get in the area without making boxing full time. it certainly puts the smaller gyms rafe started out in to shame.

you were the one who originally suggested it. any sort of contact sport to work through some of his anger. you saw it bubbling under the surface, and you knew rafe would never do anything in your presence, even if he wanted to scream and punch a wall, he'd bottle it all in just to not scare you.

you clap as the first round comes to an end, ever the good supporter and attendee. it's part of the reason the gym likes rafe so much, he's no fuss, no personal drama, just pure fighting.

there's more rounds as you wait to see rafe, the rest of the seats being filled along with standing room in the back for anyone getting in late. 

a new referee steps into the ring, a professional with years of experience who doesn't bother with the lower level fights, saving himself for the main event. 

you sit up a little straighter in your seat as your eyes move to the door, a smile stretching over your cheeks as rafe steps out to applause and the thumbing base of a rap song. you applaud as well, keeping your eyes on rafe despite knowing he won't look at you, not until he gets in the ring, some sort of superstition that he's developed as he keeps his head down.

the other fighter comes out to the booming announcement of their name, a silly nickname you immediately disregard. clearly someone trying to rise the ranks and become a well known name, but you can tell just by his stature that rafe will take him down.

you breathe a little sigh of relief as rafe climbs into the ring and looks over to you, a slight smirk you're sure only you can see. he knows just as well as you do that this will be an easy day.

the official facilitates the handshake between the opponents before they're back to their corners to tape wrists and put on gloves, getting everything prepared. you keep your eyes on rafe, of course, taking in his every movement.

you feel a stirring in your stomach as he stands, tank top stretched tight across his body while his shorts are looser, allowing him to move easily around the ring.

you hear a woop coming from the back but know better than to divert your attention, rafe surging forward right when the official starts the round. he wastes no time throwing quick punches before defending, stepping to the side to miss the opponents swipes.

rafe lands a few more blows, but you don't cheer yet. you've made the mistake before of thinking he's in the clear too early.

the movement of rafes body is almost a dance, one driven by passion. his biceps bulge with every punch, swear gathering on his chest, making your mouth water as you watch.

the officials whistle to end the round makes you jump, too wrapped up in rafes looks to pay attention to the fight like you know you should.

you really do try to shift your attention back, but as the next round starts, you're quickly drawn back to watching rafes body and smooth movements. 

every punch he throws makes your legs tighten further, hoping the pressing of your thighs offers you some sort of relief, but any comfort is fleeting.

your body responds for you when the fight comes to end, rising to your feet and clapping as you snap back to attention. rafe of course wins, the opponent not even getting a punch to his face other than a brief touch on his jaw that didn't even knock his mouthguard.

“i knew you'd win.” you smile and step forward as rafe comes to the ropes, leaning over to press his lips against yours.

“let me talk to the team and shower then we'll get out of here, yeah?” rafe kisses you again before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “i can tell you're turned on.”

--

“how'd you know?” you question as rafe shifts the car into drive, his free hand immediately coming to your thigh as he pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“that you were- are turned on?” rafe smirks, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. “you get a look in your eyes, baby. and i can tell you want me.”

“and i have that look right now?” you hum out, turning the volume up on the radio slightly as the kid cudi song comes on.

“mhm. and it'll only intensify when i do this-” rafes hand slides upwards between your thighs. you quickly part them for him, letting out a soft moan as his fingers rub right where he knows you like it best.

“shit.” you lean back into the seat, trying to keep yourself from jumping over the center console and pouncing on rafe instantly. you pray you don't hit traffic as he presses harder on the gas pedal, ready to get home as well.

“you looked so pretty tonight cheering me on baby.” rafe pushes his fingers harder against your pants, creating tight circles. “even if you were spaced out the entire time.”

“mhm.” you hum, not even truly listening to what rafe is saying, just enjoying the tambor of his voice and the feeling growing in your stomach.

you know when rafe laughs that it's at you and your current state, but you've done far too much and been with him far too long to be embarrassed or ashamed by your lust as you let out another moan.

your eyes are glossy as you turn to look at rafe, hand gripping the wheel tightly with a clear tent in his sweatpants. you blink a few times to clear your vision as you take in his hard set jaw, tension building as he is forced to wait to get inside you.

you reach over to place your hand on rafes crotch, hoping the pressure of your hand sustains him a little longer.

“it's taking everything in me not to pull over and fuck you here in the car.” rafe says through gritted teeth.

you look out the windshield as rafe moves his hand to grip the steering wheel with both hands, needing it now that you're touching him to keep the vehicle steady. “we're almost home.” you hum out, petting your fingertips over his length, contemplating pushing his pants down and bending over the center console, but your clenching pussy needs him.

rafe pulls into the driveway at speeds he shouldn't be going inside a residential neighborhood, the car calming to a halting stop, and not even a second passes before you're out of your seats and out of the car.

rafe beats you to the front door, throwing it open for you to rush inside, locking it tight after you've entered.

you know you won't make it to the bed. you never do on nights like this. both on a high from rafe winning his fight, an easy opponent with not even a scratch to his knuckles.

rafe presses you against the wall of the hallway, his body molding against yours as his lips smash forward into a passionate kiss. you reach between your bodies immediately, knowing you're already soaking wet and ready from rafe playing with you in the car.

you push down on the hem of rafes sweatpants until rafe moves his hips and allows you to shove them down along with his underwear. 

rafe lets out a sigh as your hand wraps around his length, holding his cock in your grasp as you quickly begin to stroke.

“fuck, baby.” rafe places his fist around your hand. “as much as i love you touching me like this i need to be inside you now.”

there's a desperation in his voice that makes something in your chest tighten.

you nod and release him, undoing your button and zipper to shove your pants to the ground and kick them away. rafe grabs the hem of your tshirt before you can take it off yourself, pulling it up over your head before it also joins the clothes scattered around the foyer.

rafe connects your lips back together, his hands sneaking behind your back to undo your bra before pulling the cups off, large palms quickly replacing them as he holds your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze that has your mouth falling open in a satisfied sigh.

“bedroom, counter or right here?” rafe asks, pulling on your lip before you can answer and giving it a tug.

“right here.” you reach down and take rafes cock in your hand, giving it a stroke. “right here, right now.”

“mmm, don't have to tell me again.” rafes arms circle around you and pull you up, pinning you against the wall. your body moves so naturally like it's done a hundred times before, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

rafe lines up his cock with your entrance and sinks forward. your arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him in tight, mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing closed as he slowly enters you.

“oh god.” rafe groans, mouth opening as well, but to press his teeth against your skin, biting down gently so as to not actually hurt you, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

“fuck me rafe.” your fingertips are digging into his shoulders, trying not to pierce him with your nails as you grip onto his muscles, muscles he just used to pummel his opponent.

“fuck me hard.” you don't often ask for it hard or really give him any direction. rafe knows how to please you, but it's different today. you need his full force, everything he has left in him.

and he doesn't make you wait.

rafe pulls his cock out slowly before slamming in, forcing your ass back into the wall with a thud, your whole body shuddering as he thrusts.

you tighten your arms even more, needing your bodies to become one as he pumps his hips forward, the sound of skin meeting together spreading through the empty house.

tomorrow, you'll clean up the clothes off the floor. tomorrow, you'll make a large breakfast to replenish rafe from his fight and open every window in the house to let in light and air, but tonight, you're going to remain in the dark hallway with your legs wrapped around rafes waist.

“harder.” you beg again, even though you're not sure you can take it.

rafe complies, swinging faster as one of his hands manages to find a way between your bodies, tips of his fingers pressing against your clit. he knows he should fuck you longer, but he can build you up again for the second time in the bedroom, you've teased each other too much and he needs to feel you fall apart in his arms.

“you're so tight and warm.” rafe mumbles, burying his face in your neck as he huffs, absorbing your heart after being apart physically for too long, the cold air of the gym and locker room now being replaced with you.

“i love you.” rafe mumbles, lips against your neck as he presses a few kisses to your throat. “thank you.”

he doesn't need to say what for. you understand. for being with him, for encouraging him to try boxing, for standing by his side and knowing what's best for him even when he didn't know himself.

“i love you.” you moan out, pussy clenching around rafes cock as your high suddenly hits, back arching off the wall in pleasure only to be slammed back against it as rafe pushes as deep as he can go inside of you, the squeezing of your cunt triggering his own high as his cum spurts inside of you.

“f-fuck.” you whine, nails fully leaving marks now as you breathe deeply, chest rising and falling, pressing against rafes with every breath.

“let's go take a bath.” rafe says, his voice suddenly softer, almost like the sex was the last bit of excursion he needed to calm himself after the fight.

“okay.” you can't help but giggle.

despite your agreement, rafe doesn't pull out, his softening cock still inside of you and bodies connected.

“okay.” you repeat, pressing your lips against rafes cheek before resting your head against his, realizing what he needs in that moment. “i love you.”

you stay there, still, for minutes that stretch into what feels like hours, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

“okay.” rafe finally responds, eyes blinking with a new clarity, any sort of anger or frustration he had before the fight now freed from inside him. “bath time, yeah?”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bruhhhh. I read this just as I woke up and it left me so fucking hit and bothered. 😭😭😭😭 I legit di my chores and was in the middle of watching a movie when I realized I still had yet to come back to this and I just want to say I am not the same person I was 1 fic ago fucking hellll what the fuck.

You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

ARRYN READER?! you had me at this honestly. I have not yet read an arryn!reader fic and it's so girlie pop refreshing we love to see it

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. 

She better than me. I simply would have jumped him again

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

First of all [obscene noises], second of all HES SO BIG DICK ENERGY SUCH A DADDY SUCH A GIVER CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN IS IT THE PRINCE HELLO

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

FUCKING hell fuck

“I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

😭😭😭😭😭 HE SO JDJDJDJDKSKSKSKKSKS I WOULD SUCK HIS DICK LIKE YOURE GONNA GET ME THE PRINCE FOR MY BIRTHDAY FUCK I WOULD PAY TO SEE WHAT THEY TALKED ABOUT FUCKKKKKK

What if he thinks me perverse?

🧍‍♀️ bestie. That men bred not 1 but 2 of his nieces

You know this is nonsensical — [...]

YEAH calm ur tits

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

THE WAY THIS HAD ME SCREAMING (CREAMING) AHHHHH

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

🥺🥺🥺 my baby girl. My baby girl

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

HES SO COCKY AND FULL OF HIMSELF. I NEED TO BE FULL OF HIS COCK

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

I WANT TO KNOW I WANT TO BE A FLY ON THE WALL SO FUCKING BAD. HE MADE ME AN OFFER GOT ME LIKE

(I am legally obligated to say that I fucking hate this gif but love it so much every time I use it it's so fucking horrible and hilarious I loathe it HAHH)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

GNAWING AT THE FUCKIN BARS OF MY FUCKING ENCLOSURE HELLO?????

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

HES SUCH A LIL SHIT SUCH DIPSHIT ENERGY IM GONNA WRECK IT

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

NSJJSNDJSKSKSN IM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR REQUOTING YOUR ENTIRE FIC BACK BUT THE IMAGE OF DAEMON WALKING IN FUNDAMENTALLY SAYING SUP BRUV & HEY BEAUTIFUL IS SO FKDKKDNSNSNSNSJ

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now.

KSJJSSJS I LOVE HOW THEY LOVEEEE MDKDKSNJSJSKSJSJ NAURRR 😫😫😫😫😫

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

HES SO SASSY I WANT TO KNOW HOW HARWIN PROPOSITIONED HIS FUCKING WIFE TO HIM PLEASEEE

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

DONT MIND ME I JUST HAVE TO REQUOTE ALL THE SCENES THAT MADE ME CREAM MY PANTS

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡YES SIR WHATEVER YOU SAY SIR THANK YOU SIR SORRY SIR

“She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

I WOULD CREAM MY PANTS HES SUCH A GIVER HES SO SOFT HES SUCH A SOFT DOM I WOULD GIVE HIM 100 BABIES

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

SCREAMMINNGGGGGGGGGGGG SHE LIKE ME FRRRR SHES SO ME WHO IS THIS DIVAAA

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

SHES SO ME A FULL BLOWN MASOCHIST

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

I WOULD CRY BUT ALSO TOUCH MYSELF BUT ALSO CRY AND CREAM MY PANTS AND SO MANY EMOTIONS BIG DICK HARWIN COMING THROUGH

Daemon whimpers.

DAEMONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN FUCKIN GGG HEELLL DAEMON MY BRAT SUB HES SO ME I WOULD NOT MAKE IT I WOULD MOAN AND BEND OVER AND BEG AND

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

GAGGGEEDDDDD JAW ON THE FLOOR HARWINS SUCH A GOOD DOM HARD DOM STERN DOM SOFT DOM I NEED HIM PLS FUCKING HELL

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

GIRL YOU AND ME FR MOVE OVER IM TRYNA GET RAILED BY FUCK AND FUCKER

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

Me and daemon, except one of us is more in denial I wonder who it is:

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

NFJDNDNDN I LOVE THE DEGRADATION NEXT TO THE PRAISE I THINK IM PREGNANT WHAT

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

IM SAYIN DAEMON MOVE THE FUCK OVER IF YOURE NOT GONNA GET YO ASS FUCKED I WILL

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 head empty no thoughts I think is should be stuffed somewhere else

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

MMMM GOOODDD SOUPPPP AM I BEING SO SI ANNOYING GOOD

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

Literally creaming

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

SWEATING SO MUCH IM SO HOT AND BOTHERED AND HANDMSKNSNSN HELLO

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

FUCKKKKKKKK DAEMONNN SCREAMING

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

JAW ON THE FLOOR YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ME WHAT HE FUCKING SAID

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

WHAT IF THIS EAS MY LAST STRAW IM LITERALLY TOO FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD I MAY BE OVULATING THIS MAY BE WHY IM SO AFFECTED BY THIS HELLO

A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

When I tell you I SCREAMMMED well I've been screaming but NDKZJNDNSNSNNSNSMSKNS FCUUKFN SUCJNCNDMMDMXUJ DNDNSNSS BARKKINGGGG I WISH I COULD PUT A MEME BUT IM ON MOBILE AND I HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

She's so me 🫦💅😋

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

I never said I was more than a hole

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

This was so self indulgent I may have to reread this because fuck and I don't like rereading stuff cos my brain isn't wired like that but fuckkkkkkkkkk FUCKKKKKKKKKKK AND ITS 11K WORDS BUT ITS NOT DRAGGING AT ALL FUCKKKKKK it so good lobotomy me rn

Hour of the Owl

summary: there's only one thing you want for your nameday and your sweet husband is more than happy to let you have it

pairing: dom!harwin strong x sub!reader x switch!daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors go away!), afab reader, reader is described as having some targaryen features (white hair, lilac eyes) but no other physical descriptors are mentioned, threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), handjobs, piv sex, brief spitting, cum play, brief breeding kink, choking, spanking, daemon ignoring the rules, fingering, breast/nipple play, hair pulling, facesitting, very brief mention of miscarriage (world building only, does not directly affect the reader), praise kink, degradation, aftercare included, some fluff, "good cop/bad cop" trope, hair pulling, creampie, bi!daemon and harwin (they're at least experimenting asdfgh), daemon whimpering!!! i repeat, daemon whimpering!!!

word count: 11.8k (genuinely HOW)

a/n: this is dirty, y'all, i won't lie. this is filthy, filthy stuff. there's literally about 7.2k words of just pure smut here. gird your loins, this one is a wild ride. godspeed.

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

A soft breeze blows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, filling the room with the scent of the sweet smelling flowers your older sister had planted in the gardens of the Red Keep a few moons prior. You busy yourself with removing the countless delicate golden pins your ladies had stuck in your hair that morning, silvery hair pooling around your shoulders as you undo braid after braid. Finally, you run your fingers through the last one, lost in thought as you walk out onto your balcony, your feet bare against the cool stone floors. 

You sigh as you lean against a stone ledge, looking out over the many fires and torches that light Kings Landing each night, spread out below the Red Keep like a field of stars. You say a quick prayer to the Mother as you gaze at the moon, praying for your sister’s safety during her pregnancy; praying that this one would carry to term and that the Seven would bless your sweet niece Rhaenyra with a little brother or sister. 

You smile as you hear the heavy wooden door to your chamber opening, practically skipping to the door as Harwin slips inside, already unbuckling his leather armor.

“My love!” You call happily, giggling at the exaggerated groan he makes as you thud into him, practically attacking him as you wrap your arms around him, “I missed you!” You whine playfully, breathing in his scent as you bury your face in his chest, your cheek pressed against the tunic he wears. 

“I missed you too,” he laughs, his hands hooking under the backs of your thighs as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his middle. He walks you over to your large bed and gently sits you down on the plush fabric, “My sweet little wife,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning around and striding over to the mirror leaning against the wall next to your wardrobe. “What meanness did you busy yourself with today, I wonder?” He questions, smiling adoringly at you over his shoulder. 

“No meanness,” you smile, eyes scanning his muscular body as you watch him unbuckle and untie his leathers and tunic; you bite your lip when he finally pulls the tunic over his head, eyes scanning his bare back, lightly tanned with various scars and bruises from his training. You feel a heat building in your belly at the sight of him, which only grows stronger when he turns to face you once more, your eyes roaming over his strong chest and stomach, covered in dark hair that disappears beneath the tops of his trousers. “I simply assisted Aemma in choosing decorations for the princess’s upcoming nameday celebrations,” you start, standing from the bed and making your way over to Harwin, watching for a second as he struggles with the knot at the top of his trousers before you finally push his hands away and begin pulling at the strings yourself, “Then I aided her in welcoming some new maids, worked more on my needlepoint, and responded to the letter from our mother.” You shrug, finally pulling the ties free before returning to the bed. 

“A busy day indeed,” he smirks, running a hand through his curly hair as he stalks toward you, “Mine was much the same; we started training the new recruits today.” 

“My poor husband,” you pout, sitting on your knees at the edge of the bed, “Working so hard.” You coo, aching between your thighs as Harwin places his hands on your waist, feeling his warmth through the thin, nearly translucent Myrish lace of your nightgown. You press a soft kiss to the middle of his chest, the hairs there tickling your lips, before you bring your hands up to his shoulders and begin kneading the skin there, massaging around his neck and shoulders. 

He groans appreciatively, letting his eyes slip closed and his head tilt back as he allows himself to savor the feeling for a moment; your sweet hands, so small and delicate compared to his, still send shivers down his spine. He can’t help but think of the first day he saw you – you had looked so ethereal stepping out of your family’s carriage in the courtyard, draped in a fine silk dress in the sky blue color of House Arryn’s coat of arms. You had arrived the day Princess Rhaenyra was born and had made King’s Landing your home ever since.

He had been fond of you from that moment forward, offering to give you tours of the Keep and personally escorting you anytime you ventured from its walls. He had known you for nearly eight years and in all that time, he had yet to find a single fault with you. Were it up to him alone, the two of you would have been married within a week, although you had always joked with him that those were the exact sorts of thoughts you’d expect from the foolhardy teenage boy he was at the time. Eventually, your families finally came to a marriage agreement, Lord Rodrik Arryn pleased with the promise of you one day inheriting Harrenhal with Hawin. He smiles, thinking back to your wedding day, in disbelief that it was nearly a year ago now. 

Finally, he opens his eyes once more, finding your mesmerizing lilac ones already gazing back at him. “You are so handsome,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you lovingly smile at him, “The most beautiful man in all the kingdoms.”

He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his arms holding you tightly to him, wanting to feel as much of you pressed up against him as possible. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet smells of the oils you use in your baths, “And you are positively divine, my sweet love,” he murmurs, pulling back to gaze at you once more as he twirls a silvery strand of hair between his fingers, “The Seven have truly blessed me with the most heavenly of creatures.” 

You blush, lying back on the bed as he kicks off his trousers, his entire form finally bare to you. Your eyes roam his tanned skin appreciatively as you lean back against your pillows, fingers fiddling with a tie at the front of your dressing gown. 

“Would you do me the honor of joining me in the bath, my lady?” he asks, reaching out a hand to help you up from the bed. 

“Oh, I would be honored, my handsome knight,” you joke back, kissing his cheek before the two of you make your way over to the bath, separated from the rest of your chambers with a decorated screen you’d gotten from a trip to Dorne many years ago.

You quickly undress, draping your gown over the screen, as Harwin steps into the bath with a hiss, “Seven Hells!” He curses, wincing as his skin adjusts to the water, “Did you have your maids retrieve this water from the belly of the Dragonmont itself?” 

You snicker, gently easing yourself into the water at the opposite end of the tub, “After all this time one would think you would know how I take my baths, husband.”

He simply rolls his eyes, finally lowering himself into the rest of the water with a pained groan, much to your amusement, which earns you a splash. The two of you laugh together for a moment and you tell him all about the various decorations you’d chosen for Rhaenyra’s nameday as the two of you quickly wash. Finally, he beckons you over, resting his arms on the rim of the bath as you settle yourself against him, curling into the side of his long, burly body as you lay your head on his chest, creating swirly patterns in the hair on his chest with the point of your finger as you finish describing the decadent flavors you and Aemma had chosen for the cake. 

“Speaking of namedays,” he begins, chuckling as he hears you groan, “A certain someone’s nameday is a mere two days away and she has yet to tell me anything she wishes for.”

“I’ve told you,” you start with a sigh, peering up at him, “How am I meant to wish for anything when you spoil me so?”

“I do not spoil you!” He admonishes, a guilty smile tugging at his lips, “I simply give you all that you deserve for being such a sweet little wife.” he teases, punctuating each word of the pet name with a kiss to your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle – his favorite sound in the world. You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, still tracing various shapes and patterns onto his chest before he speaks again, his voice soft and questioning, “There must be something you long for, my love. Anything you want, simply name it.” 

You stay silent for a minute longer, pondering exactly how to voice your thoughts. There was something you wanted, or rather someone — Daemon, the king’s younger brother. Like Harwin, he had caught your eye quickly when you’d first arrived at King's Landing. According to Aemma, Viserys had even been considering betrothing the two of you for a time; though your sister had put a quick stop to that, she had never been the Rogue Prince’s biggest fan. 

Yet, still, there was something about him that simply drew you to him, something intriguing in the way he moved, the way he spoke. You loved your husband, more than anything else, but Daemon was…tempting, you couldn’t lie. 

You look up at Harwin, still silent as you stare into his soft brown eyes, before looking away again, unsure of how to even broach the topic. 

As per usual, though, your ever-observant husband was one step ahead of you. His toned arms wrap around you and pull you up, until you’re sitting in his lap, your legs on either side of his muscular thighs as you straddle him, balancing yourself by holding onto the rim of the tub as his hands remain on your waist, “It is the prince, is it not?” He asks slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving your own.

“Husband,” you start, worried he is upset with you, “You must unde–”

“I understand, my little love,” he soothes, pulling you closer to him, relishing the way your breasts press against the firmness of his chest, “You need not explain it to me,” you rest your head on his warm chest, your face buried in his neck, “Lust for him does not do away with your love for me, I know this.” He confirms, gently carding a hand through your hair.

Even with his reassurance, you remain silent for a moment still; this is new territory in your relationship – never before had you seriously considered the possibility of sharing yourself with another, your husband so adoring and protective of you that you never dreamed he would entertain the thought.

“You…wish to share me in this way? Truly?” You question, heart skipping a beat when you feel his cock beginning to harden between your legs.

“I admit I was wholly against the idea at first,” he starts, his calloused hands slowly running up and down your thighs, half-submerged in the warm water, “I am still not thrilled that the object of your desire is Prince Daemon,” he laughs, teasing you, “Of all the knights in all the seven kingdoms, you pick him.” He jokes, his chest vibrating underneath you as he laughs.

“Harwin!” You gasp to hide your own laughter, though you know the cheeky smile tugging at your lips gives you away, “Please, be serious!” You reprimand, playfully slapping at his chest.

“I yield, I yield,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. Eventually, the two of you settle down once more, a quiet calmness descending over you, “But I see the way you look at him,” he smiles, indicating that he isn’t upset when he sees worry cloud your soft features once again, “Very different from the way you look at me…only lust. And I see the way he looks at you,” your head shoots up at this, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks at this knowledge, “Lust, yes, but also a certain softness,” his hands come to rest on your hips once more, gently rocking your slick heat against his length, “Like you are something sacred to behold.”

He finishes finally, taking pleasure in the way you shudder against him, small whimpers and whines escaping your lips as your bud is dragged up and down his cock, his hands gripping your waist so tightly there are sure to be bruises in the morning.

“Husband,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you mewl into his neck, the lavender scent of your bath oils filling your lungs, “Oh, Gods!” You moan, your aching bud catching on the head of his cock.

“He should look at you in that way,” Harwin grunts, thighs bending under the curve of your rear as his knees come up out of the bathwater, giving him more leverage to rut against you, “Like you are, fuck, like you are something divine.” He groans into the hair at the crown of your head, big hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs swirling against your sensitive nipples, “You are, my love,” his words come out in breathless, broken gasps, “Divine, sacred, a gift sent straight from the Seven.”

You nod wordlessly, whines and moans getting caught in your throat as your hands roam over the firm planes of his chest, lips busying themselves against the column of his throat. No further words are needed between the two of you, a common understanding being enough for now as your bodies press closer together, nearly melding into one beneath the warm, sweetly scented water. 

Golden morning light shines in through the sheer curtains of your chambers as you busy yourself with dressing for the day, your maids flitting around you as they button, tie, and lace you into your dress. 

Harwin had left much earlier than you, already strapped into his leathers before the sun rose above the horizon. Just like every other morning, he had gently kissed you awake to let you know he was leaving, telling you he promised to be safe when training and that he would see you at supper. Unlike every other morning, however, he had added, “I imagine I shall see Prince Daemon in the training yard today,” he had softly cooed, a warm hand tenderly caressing your cheek, “If I do, I shall speak with him about our…offer. See what he says.” 

At the time, you had simply mumbled sleepily, head too clouded with sleep to truly process his words. Now, though, you could not keep from wringing your hands with worry, fidgeting uneasily as your hair was pinned up, half your hair braided and wrapped up into a bun at the crown of your head, the rest left to cascade down your shoulders like a pearly waterfall. 

Your maids finally finished, leaving you in your chambers with your still steaming breakfast, which you could only bring yourself to pick at, the nervous knots in your stomach keeping your appetite at bay. 

What if he thinks me perverse? You worry, staring out at the morning sky, watching as puffy clouds blow in from the winds of Blackwater Bay. You know this is nonsensical — if even half the rumors of Daemon’s various appetites were true, he had no justification to call you of all people perverse. What if he tells everyone? You wonder, halfheartedly sipping at your tea, but even this you know was absurd. He was brash, incredibly rude at times, but the prince knew when to be discreet, and if he truly gazed at you in the way your husband claimed, you had no doubt he would keep your secret. 

After exhausting your list of worries, you finally stand up from your small breakfast table, intending to find Aemma and ask for her to accompany you on a walk through the gardens. 

You make your way into the hallway, winding your way through the various passages of the Red Keep in your search for your sister, saying polite thank you's to anyone wishing you a happy early nameday.

“Auntie!” You hear a small voice call behind you as you step out into the Godswood, the stoic face of the weirwood tree there peering at you from under its canopy of red leaves. You turn on your heel, smiling brightly when you see Rhaenyra running at you at full tilt.

You scoop her up at the last second, grunting a small “Oof!” as she barrels into your arms, “If it isn’t my favorite little niece!” You chirp brightly, her small arms hugging around your neck, “What wickedness are you up to?”

“Training!” She answers, excitedly squirming in your grasp, perched atop one of your hips.

“Training?” You question with exaggerated interest, “Whatever for?”

“To ride Syrax!” She giggles, “She’s getting big and the keepers say she is almost ready!”

“How exciting,” you nod, setting her down before crouching before her, “She is growing quickly indeed,” you add, motioning for her to turn around before you begin braiding her hair, the same pale shade as your own, “Are the keeper’s training you as well?” 

“Konir sagon ñuha gaomilaksir,” a deep, smooth voice answers from behind you. You gasp, whipping your head around just in time to see Daemon step into the courtyard, dressed in his familiar dark metal armor, Dark Sister hanging from his belt, “Ñuha riña.” He nods simply. (That would be my job.) (My lady.)

“Ñuha dārilaros,” you nod in return, quickly finishing Rhaenyra’s braid before standing and turning to face him, “I trust the morning has found you in good spirits.” (My prince.)

“Oh, it has indeed,” he says, eyes flashing with mirth as he smirks at you, his head cocking to the side, stands of pale hair contrasting against the dark metal covering his chest, “Eman ryptan mirri udir, ñuha riña.” He drawls. (I have heard some news, my lady.)

This catches Rhaenyra’s attention, her Valyrian lessons clearly paying off as she gasps excitedly as she bounces between the two of you, “What news? What news?” 

“Nothing to worry your pretty head about,” Daemon chides, shaking his head with a small smile, “Just some news from the council, nothing that would be of interest to you,” he continues quickly, waving his hand dismissively before nodding his head to the old stone archway that leads back inside the Keep, “I need to speak with your aunt quickly, run along to the dragonpit. I’m sure Syrax would appreciate a treat before we begin training.” 

Rhaenyra nods happily, twirling a small yellow flower around in her hands as she practically skips from the courtyard, singing, “A treat for Syrax, a treat for Syrax!” as she disappears down the hall.

“Ao jorrāelatan naejot ȳdragon lēda nyke?” You question once Daemon returns his attention to you, politely clasping your hands together. (You needed to speak with me?)

“Ser Harwin approached me earlier this morning in the yard,” he starts, eyes sweeping over your body like a predator eyeing its prey, “Vēttan nyke iā jiōragon.” He smirks, watching you blush under his gaze. (He made me an offer.)

“Gōntan ziry?” (He did?)

“Konir sagon paktot,” he continues, voice nearly patronizing as he slowly paces around you, circling you like a shark in the water, “He says you want me to fuck you.” He finishes, coming to stand before you once more, a proud smile on his face once he sees the shock on yours. (That’s right.)

“Iksis bisa drēje?” He asks once it becomes clear you don’t know how to respond. (Is this true?)

“Kessa.” You say simply, inwardly wincing at the wobble in your voice, though you try your hardest to appear confident. (Yes.)

Daemon snickers, “Naughty, naughty girl,” he tsks, shaking his head teasingly, one hand casually perched on the hilt of his sword, “He tells me I’m meant to be your nameday present; quite the honor, I must say.” 

“M��rī lo ao agree naejot se jiōragon, ñuha dārilaros.” (Only if you agree to the offer, my prince.)

“Consider this my agreement,” he says proudly, gaze straying to the neckline of your gown, “I’ve been asked to arrive at your chambers at the hour of the owl,” his lilac eyes meet yours once again, “Is this acceptable, naughty girl?”

You flush deeply at his nickname, only used to sweet praises from Harwin, “That is most acceptable, my prince.” You nod.

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he chides, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, “Certainly not with the way we’ll be so intimately acquainted later this evening,” he steps back again, still smirking, “You may call me Daemon…or sir.” He adds, noting the way it makes you squirm. 

“Very well…Daemon.” You tease, feeling proud when you see his eyes widen just the slightest bit. 

“Perhaps this sweet little kitten has claws after all,” he smirks, eyes looking you up and down once more, “Very well,” he says with a nod, “I’m needed at the dragonpit, but I shall be seeing you and your husband later this evening.”

“Hen rhinka.” You nod as you watch him leave, your entire body relaxing, releasing unrealized tension, as soon as his back disappears from view. You allow yourself to breathe for a few moments, standing in the silent courtyard as your heartbeat returns to normal, before you leave, once again going to try and find Aemma, or really anything else to keep yourself occupied until the evening. (Of course.)

“I promise, sweet girl,” Harwin says, watching from the small sitting area in your chambers as you pace back and forth across the stone floor, “I told him all he would need to know. About you, about what you like, all of it.”

You nod, half listening, as you walk back and forth, feet bare on the large, plush fur rugs that cover the floor in front of the fireplace. The warmth of it on your skin was usually a welcome feeling, although tonight you only felt overheated. Outside, the sky was dark, the sun having set quite a while ago. King’s Landing once again sprawled out like a sea of stars beneath the Keep, mirroring the stars in the black sky overhead, the bright light of the moon reflecting off of the waters of the bay – the hour of the owl was drawing close. 

“We do not have to do this if you’re having second thoughts, my love,” he says, standing and striding over to you, “If you wish, I will simply tell Daemon to fuck off.” He jokes, chuckling as you relax in his arms.

“I do want to!” You sigh, tilting your chin up to peer up at him through your lashes, “I’m simply nervous, I suppose. We’ve never done anything like this before,” you bite your lip, looking away from him as you resume speaking, “Honestly, I’m still shocked you agreed to it at all.”

“I want to share you,” he shrugs, pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head, “Show off what’s mine.” He says lowly, chuckling when he feels you shiver against him – he knows very well that his possessiveness gets to you.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the thick wooden door of your chambers, making you jump, which makes Harwin chuckle as he stands to open it; he had dismissed the guard that normally stood at your door in the evening, insisting that he take the night off. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you merely stand in front of the fire, nervously fidgeting. 

Your husband gives you one last look, his eyes questioning; you nod to him, signaling that it was okay, that this was truly what you wanted, and he opened the door. 

“Ser Harwin,” Daemon drawls, looking your husband up and down as he strides into the room, cocky as usual. Finally, his eyes land on you and you can’t help the small fizzle that takes hold in your belly at the way he stops suddenly in his tracks, his eyes glazing over as he looks you over, “My lady,” he says softly, nodding at you as he stalks closer to where you stand, feet still planted firmly in the carpet, “Ȳdra daor ao jurnegon gevie.” (Don’t you look beautiful.)

“He says I am beautiful,” you tell your husband, translating the Valyrian for him, an act that is second nature for you now. “Kirimvose.” you say, trying your hardest to keep your voice from trembling. (Thank you.)

Daemon comes to stand in front of you, his eyes searching yours for a second, looking for any hesitation you suppose. When he finds none, he hooks a finger into the delicate ribbon tied around your waist, the one keeping your silk dressing gown shut; again, he catches your eyes, and again you suppose he must find what he’s searching for because suddenly he’s pulling the bow there undone. 

“She looks ravishing all the time,” your husband said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck as he seems to materialize behind you, rough hands skirting up your arms before coming to rest at your shoulders, “The most beautiful creature.”

“A beautiful creature,” Daemon agrees, his hands, not as rough as Harwin’s though still battle-worn, settling on your hips as he looks at your body appreciatively, his light eyes growing darker by the minute, “And a naughty thing.” He finishes, smirking when he hears a small, barely there whimper escape your lips. 

“Is she?” your husband asks, gathering all your hair over one shoulder, exposing one side of your neck before he kisses you there, relishing the sigh he gets in return. You gasp as one of his hands comes up to cup your breast, warming your skin through the thin lace of your nightgown, “She’s such a good, obedient girl.”

You lean back into Harwin, your back against his firm chest as he kneads your breast, sending sparks flying down between your thighs. “Only bad little things fantasize about being taken by two men.” Daemon practically growls. Your eyes are only half open but you still don’t miss the look he gives your husband over your shoulder, nor do you miss the way the brunette subtly nods against the column of your neck. You moan when Daemon’s lips finally press against your own, his mouth soft and warm, tongue already licking into your mouth. 

The motion presses you further back against Harwin, pressing his half-hard cock into the small of your back, the feeling making you near dizzy with lust as you realize that he truly wanted this just as much as you. Daemon’s tongue eventually wins its battle for dominance and the two of you kiss for a moment longer, the only sounds in your chambers being being yours and the prince’s lips moving together as your husband kisses, licks, and bites along your neck, causing you to mewl softly into Daemon’s waiting mouth like a puppy. 

“Are you a bad girl, sweet little thing?” The prince growls against your jaw as he finally separates his lips from yours, trailing kisses down the opposite side of your neck. 

When you neglect to answer, too caught up in the men’s attention, Harwin suddenly palms at the plump flesh of your rear, roughly grabbing and squeezing it enough to have you whining, “I believe Daemon asked you a question, my love,” he chucked, his other hand pulling down the neckline of your nightgown, nearly ripping the delicate lace, to reveal your breast, “It would be rude not to answer.”

“Gods!” You moan, sucking in a breath when you feel the blond’s lips wrap around your exposed nipple, his teeth teasing at the sensitive, peaked skin, “I-I’m a good girl!” You gasp, your fingers carding through silky hair, the same silvery shade as your own, “Harwin says I-“ You start, only to be brutally cut off as one of Daemon’s large hands wraps around your throat. 

“Harwin may claim what he wishes,” he sneers, nose touching yours as he speaks, “But to me, you’re nothing but a lovely whore.” 

You gasp, having never been called such a thing before. A part of you knows you should be offended, yet you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together at his harsh treatment, knees nearly buckling beneath you. 

Your husband tenses behind you, his kisses freezing on your neck before he lifts his head. Narrowing his eyes at Daemon over your shoulder, he grabs his forearm and pushes his hand off of you, “You are not to speak to her in that manner,” he growls, jaw squared, “Nor handle her so harshly. We discussed this earlier.” 

“Oh, hush,” the prince dismisses, prying his hand from Harwin’s grasp with a tsk, “She’s enjoying it, naughty little thing.” He nods his chin at you, noting the blush on your cheeks and the way your chest is heaving. 

Harwin’s eyes shift to yours, his hand tilting your chin up as he peers at you. Before he can speak, though, the large bells at the top of the Keep begin to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Finally, the hour of the owl had arrived, and with it your true nameday. 

“Well, well,” Daemon drawls, abandoning you and Harwin to perch at the edge of your bed, helping himself go to the pitcher of wine sitting at your bedside, “You know, the girls in Flea Bottom have quite the… interesting nameday tradition.” He smirks, studying you and Harwin with amusement as he takes a sip of wine. 

“What is it?” You ask, pulling your husband behind you as you approach the bed, accepting a glass of wine from Daemon. Beside you, Harwin shakes his head, glaring at the other man.

“We talked about this. I told you that I would be taking the lead–”

“You told me, yes,” Daemon interrupts, giving your husband a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to you, “However, it is her nameday. I believe she should get to decide.”

“Decide what?” You inquire, looking between the two men.

“Who will be giving you your birthday spanks, naughty girl.” The blond smirks, gazing at you appreciatively, “One for each year you’ve graced the realm with your presence.”

You looked back and forth between the two men again, Daemon looking at you as if you were a piece of prey, a prize to be won, and Harwin looking at you concerned, as if you were a precious treasure in need of protection. You deliberate for what feels like a long while in your mind – on one hand, Daemon was new and exciting, but you also knew of his unpredictable nature; on the other hand, Harwin was comfortable and safe to you, but wasn’t the entire point of this endeavor to branch out?

“Can…” you begin hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two men, “Can both of you do it?”

“I think that can be arranged, my sweet girl,” your husband says huskily, excited at the promise of exploring this particular act with you once more, “Why don’t you be a good little girl and kneel on the bed for us, hm? On all fours, as you normally do.”

At that remark, Daemon looks at you with great interest, making your cheeks heat up as Harwin helps you remove your robe, draping it over a nearby chair. He turns around quickly when he hears you gasp, only to see the prince laving his tongue over your nipple again, mouthing at it through the paper thin lace of your nightgown, as one of his hands busies itself with your other breast, palming at it desperately; his other hand visible through the thin material of your gown as his fingers tease at your center, brushing through the slick folds with practiced ease. 

He can’t help but admire you for a short moment, cock hardening at the soft blush that settles across your cheeks, the way your chest heaves as you gasp with pleasure, tits bouncing as you writhe against the other man’s hand. Finally, he comes out of his reverie and strides to where you and Daemon stand, taking his place on the other side of your body. 

He begins toying with you once more, guiding your mouth to his while his hands roam over your curves before one finally settles on your breast, the one unoccupied by Daemon’s tongue. His tongue battles with yours as his palm gently squeezes your breast, fingers teasingly pinching at your nipple, causing him to groan in satisfaction once you start mewling in the way he loves. His other hand joins the prince’s at your core, two of this thick fingers teasing at your opening, “Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, “So wet, my love.” His fingers slide into you with a practiced ease, knowing exactly what you like after having spent nearly a year taking you apart on a practically daily basis. 

They crook up perfectly, rubbing against that spot within you with the perfect pressure and accuracy. If there was one thing Harwin was determined to perfect from the moment you were officially declared his in the eyes of gods and men, it was bringing you pleasure in greater amounts than you’d ever thought possible. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that spread across his bearded face as the sounds of your whimpers and whines grew more and more desperate, telling him once more that he was successful in his mission. 

Just as your husband's fingers speed up within you, Daemon traces tighter and tighter circles around your eager bud, his mouth growing more insistent on your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth, sucking it harshly into the warmth of his mouth. 

“Getting close, naughty thing?” the blond asks teasingly, lilac eyes peering up at yours as he continued stimulating you. 

You nod frantically, whining as Harwin begins tracing his lips down your jaw, right to that spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. “Let go, princess,” he husks, the tips of his fingers zeroing in on that small rough patch within you, “Give us your pleasure.”

You can’t help the noise that leaves you, a loud, desperate, whining moan that would leave you horribly embarrassed at any other time, but right now you don’t have the ability to care. The ministrations from the two men, along with the utterance of the one pet name Harwin only dared utter in private, send you tumbling over the edge. You feel your knees buckle, although you aren’t worried about falling, too dumb with pleasure to think but still reassured that two pairs of strong arms will surely hold you steady. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyelids as you feel your center contract around your husbands fingers; the two men groan when they hear the slick sounds pouring out from between your thighs multiply nearly tenfold as your peak takes you, soaking Harwin’s fingers and wetting Daemon’s hand. 

“What a naughty, dirty girl,” the prince teases, fingers only leaving your bud once your legs had started to twitch from the overstimulation, “Peaking over the fingers of two men,” you whimper as your husband carefully removes his fingers from you, face flushing when he immediately takes them into his mouth, licking off the evidence of your arousal, “No better than a common Flea Bottom whore.”

Again, Daemon’s words send a shiver up your spine, the knot that had just come unraveled in your stomach tightening once more. “She is a good girl,” Harwin corrects him, hands lovingly stroking over your body, “For peaking exactly when I commanded her to. Such a good, obedient girl.”

Your head spins at their words, head swimming as one man degrades you, clearly gaining pleasure from the way his teases and rude remarks affect you, while the other praises you so lovingly, proud at way his tender words affect you so after months of perfecting them, learning exactly which phrases drive you to madness and fully exploiting them. 

“Are you ready for your sweet spanks, my good girl?” Harwin asks, brown eyes shining with love.

You nod breathlessly, still leaning on both men for support. Beside you Daemon chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ask for it properly, naughty girl.”

“Ask us, sweetling.” Harwin nods encouragingly. 

“Please…” you start softly, finally finding your voice, “Please, husband, sir, please may I have my nameday spankings?”

Daemon growls lowly in his chest, satisfied at you finally learning your place and addressing him the way he feels he deserves, “Get on the bed.” He commands easily, leaving no room for backtalk or questioning.

Blessedly, your sweet husband still sees fit to help you arrange yourself on the edge of the bed, taking your shaky legs into account as he helps you move. You’re indeed kneeling on all fours, your legs tucked up under you as your feet dangle off the bed, your ass in the air, though still covered by the lace of your gown.

You feel the air shift behind you as they move, both standing behind you still but Harwin to the left and Daemon to the right. The one of Daemon’s hands strokes down your back, you can feel him leaning over you as he trails his hand down from the very top of your shoulder blades all the way down to the small of your back, right where the curve of your ass starts; you can hear him hum appreciatively. His other hand drags up the back of one of your thighs and slowly, he slips his fingers under the hem of your gown. He pulls it up over your ass, letting the soft, silky fabric pool in the dip of your spine; your walls clench around nothing when you hear both men groan behind you.

“Gods,” Harwin breathes, rough fingers lightly tracing over your skin, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Pretty little cunt,” Daemon quips, smirking when he hears you whimper as he spreads your cheeks apart, hands gripping you hard enough that there are sure to be fingerprint sized bruises, “Wetter than the Narrow Sea.” He remarks, chuckling as he runs a thumb over the slit of your heat, marveling at the way your slick remains connected to his thumb by a thin thread for a second as he pulls his hands away. 

“Ready, princess?” Harwin murmurs behind you, hands soothing where Daemon had grabbed you.

“Please!” You nod, hands gripping the furs spread across the bed. 

Suddenly, a hand comes down on the left side of your ass, harsh but not overly painful; you whimper at the impact, walls clenching from the pleasant sting left behind. Harwin. You were sure of it – the two of you had only experimented in this way a scant few times but enough that you knew the feel of his blows. 

Again, a hand comes down, this time making you jerk as a palm strikes the right globe of your rear. A sharp cry leaves your lips, back bowing for a second before the same hand is pressing harshly at the small of your back, “Keep that back arched, naughty little thing.” Daemon hums. 

Harwin gives you a moment to breathe, a gesture you appreciate very much, before striking you once again. Again, you mewl as you feel the welcome heat spread across your skin. You turn your head, burying your face into the soft furs beneath you, only to practically inhale the wolf pelt there as Daemon brings his hand down again, making you gasp. Another cry leaves your lips, louder and harsher than the last as tears pool in the corner of your eyes, some already leaking onto the coat. The right side of your ass practically feels as if it’s on fire, the sting so harsh it makes your ears ring. 

“That’s two,” Daemon taunts, smiling wickedly as he sees an outline of his handprint already blooming on your ass, “So many more left to go.”

Harwin leans over you, brushing the hair from your face, brows furrowing with concern when he sees your tears, “Are you alright, my love?” He asks, smoothing a hand down your back, “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to continue.” He reassures you, smiling lovingly.

You shake your head, determined to see it through – determined to impress Daemon, really. “N-no,” you say tearfully, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, “I want to, please.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Daemon cuts in, gripping your cheeks harshly once again as he spreads them, tugging them somehow further apart than before as he clicks his tongue, pleased, “You love this,” his hand wetly smacks against your slit, making you whine as Harwin further soothes you, glaring daggers at the prince, “Little cunt’s soaking the bed.”

Your husband knocks his hands away, the ferocity of it making you gasp and peer over your shoulder, “We’ve discussed this,” the brunette hisses through his teeth, knuckles white as he grips Daemon’s wrist, “You will not handle her in such a manner, we agreed on this.”

“Oh, please,” the prince huffs, rolling his lilac eyes as he jerks his arm from Harwin’s grip, “She’s enjoying it, see?” You don’t have any time to react before his palm is once again smacking against your flesh, harder than the previous two hits combined. Your vision swirls, eyes stinging as tears blur your sight, a scream ripping its way from your throat as his hit shoves you further up the bed. You feel as if your entire lower half is radiating with pain, ears ringing once again.

There’s some commotion behind you, though it takes you a few seconds to get your whits about you enough to turn over, grimacing as the tender skin of your rear brushes against the pelts, ones that normally feel so soft now digging into your skin like dozens of little thorns. When you do finally clear your eyes, rubbing the tears away, your mouth practically falls open at the sight before you.

Harwin has Daemon pushed against the wall next to the bed, one of his forearms pinned down across his chest to hold him back; Daemon looks enraged, his teeth bared as he stares down your husband, “Unhand me, Strong.” He growls. 

Harwin presses him down harder, chest heaving with anger, “You dare harm her,” he mutters, his other fist clenched at his side, “We trusted you for this and you harm her!” 

“She fucking liked it!” Daemon retorts, struggling against your husbands strength — although strong in his own right, he had nothing on Harwin, “Go look at her fucking cunt, it’s soaked! She loves being hit!” He positively seethes, nodding his head toward you. 

The brunette sneers, lip curling up in disgust as the other man continues to squirm in his grasp. You watch, worried, as the hand not pinning the prince to the wall shoots up and roughly grips Daemon by his throat, forcing his head back. 

Daemon whimpers.

The world seems to stop in a single breath, the three of you staying quiet and still. Your eyes are wide, not believing the small sound you heard, but there was no mistaking it. Harwin seems just as shocked as you, taking a half step back from Daemon as soon as he hears the noise.

He’s quiet for a second more before a teasing, nearly sinister smile slowly spreads across his face, “She likes being spanked, you say,” he starts, putting more pressure on Daemon’s throat, “And you, your grace, like being choked, don’t you? Nothing more than a common Flea Bottom whore, right?”

You’ve never heard your husband use that tone before, so deep and threatening, it makes your thighs clench, a soft breath escaping your lips. 

The small sound seems to remind both Harwin and Daemon that you’re still there and their heads whip toward you. They remain silent for a moment but then your husband smiles, looking between you and the prince with a mischievous smirk. 

Harwin leads Daemon over to where you sit on the bed until both men are standing in front of you once again, the blond in the front with the brunette behind him, one hand holding his arms behind his back while the other remains wrapped around his neck. There is still a fire in Daemon’s eyes, though it’s merely a simmer now instead of a blazing inferno; you can’t help but be reminded of a tamed animal, of the dragons in the dragonpit — so much wildness choosing to be contained. 

“I think you need to apologize,” Harwin starts, pushing Daemon forward until his legs hit the side of the bed, the two of them towering over you, “For hurting our lady, hm?”

Your breath catches at his choice of words, our lady. You watch as Daemon nods, his eyes half closed, glazed over by some kind of fog, his breathing slow and calm, as if he’s in a trance. 

“Come now,” Harwin shoves him a little, just enough to make him jump, “Answer properly.” 

“Yes….” Daemon whispers, hardly able to get words out around the grip Harwin has on his throat. 

“Yes what?” Your husband asks slowly, words spoken through clenched teeth, his lips right next to the prince’s ear. 

Daemon sighs, his shoulders sagging as any fight that remained in him seemed to vanish, “Yes, ser.” 

“See?” Harwin teases, patronizingly tapping him on the cheek, “You can be good.” You see Daemon shiver at that. 

Leaving Daemon to stand at the side of the bed, your husband bends down and kisses you softly, “You still desire this?”

You nod, looking deeply into his eyes as one of your hands cards through his curly hair, “Yes husband,” you whisper, “More than anything.” 

“Stand.” Harwin commands simply, and you obey, coming to stand beside Daemon. “You,” your husband snaps, motioning at the man standing next to you, “Strip and lie down.” 

Daemon does as he says, with no fuss for once. You can’t help but admire the way he moves as he removes his tunic and pants, his movements still so fluid and graceful despite the haze he seems to be in. After a moment, his clothes lie in a pile on the floor as he takes his place on your bed, laying on his back, half hard cock lying on his stomach, already leaking and flushed. 

“Good.” Harwin praises simply, though you see Daemon’s brows flutter with pleasure. “My love,” he addresses you, giving you a gentle kiss, “Let me?” He asks, gesturing to your nightgown. You nod with a smile, letting him undress you. “Perfection,” he groans once you’re bare before him, dark eyes roaming your body. 

“I want you to do something for me, princess,” he says, leading over to the bed, motioning for you to kneel on your knees next to Daemon. 

“What’s that?” You ask, looking from your husband to the prince. 

Harwin grabs your waist, much gentler than Daemon had ever touched you, and you can’t help but whimper, loving the way he manhandles you into position. Before you know it, he has you hovering over Daemon’s face, your entire body flushing as you realize what he wants. 

“Sit.” He says lowly, letting you drop onto the prince’s waiting mouth. 

“Oh!” You say in surprise, your thighs clenching around Daemon’s head. Immediately, you feel a rumble beneath you, making you whine as you realize he’s groaning with contentment as his tongue meets your aching heat. “Gods!” You gasp, hips moving of their own accord over his lips as your fingers tangle in his pale hair, causing him to groan more underneath you. 

You pant, humping against his face like nothing more than the wanton whore he claimed you to be, mewls and whines escaping your lips constantly as your eyes squeeze shut. 

You hear Harwin shuffling next to the bed and open your eyes, peering over your shoulder and shivering at the sight of your husband undressing, his muscular body on full display for you. Finally undressed, he turns to you, stroking his cock as he stalks toward the bed, eyes scanning over your body. 

“Is he making you feel good, my little love?” 

“Yes, sir!” You pant, nodding frantically. The bed dips under his weight as Harwin kneels on the bed next to you, his free hand coming up to palm at your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipples before he pinches them, humming appreciatively at the way you squirm atop Daemon. 

“Good,” Harwin chuckles, leaning over to mouth at one breast while his hand continues teasing the other, “He must atone for earlier.” He finishes, letting go of his stiff cock to slap at Daemon’s thigh, making the man below you jerk and moan, his hands gripping at your rear tighter as his cock twitches against his abdomen.

You gasp, surprised by both the slap and the way Daemon’s lips seal around your bud in response, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his hot tongue as your hips grind down harder, “Oh, Gods, fuck!” 

Beside you, Harwin stands on the bed, bending to kiss the top of your head, chuckling at the way you cling to him for support. “Shh, little sweetling,” he soothes, standing up straight, the sight of his cock making your mouth water as he fists it in front of your lips, “I have something you can occupy yourself with.” He teases, moving closer to you. 

Smiling up at him, you softly lick the tip, pride swelling in your stomach at how much the slit is already leaking. You wrap your lips around the head, suckling softly as one of your hands untangles itself from Daemon’s hair to stroke the rest of Harwin’s length. You mewl around him as the prince continues feasting on your slit, plunging his tongue inside of you, deep groans vibrating through you every time he feels your walls clench around the muscle as he fucks it into you. 

Slowly but surely, you take more of your husband into your mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. He groans above you, half lidded eyes keeping contact with yours as he gently strokes his hands through your hair. 

“Such a lovely, precious girl,” he grunts, his eyes nearly black but still shining with adoration, “Gods, princess, you’re perfect like this.” 

Your husband’s sweet praise pushes you closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach growing dangerously tight as you rut against Daemon’s mouth, his tongue zeroing in your bud as he feels you moving more and more determinedly against him, his eyes rolling back in his head at the way you taste. 

“Are you getting close, sweet girl?” Harwin asks, gently fucking his hips into your mouth. 

You nod around his length, eyebrows furrowing together as you stare up at him pleadingly. Blessedly, your sweet husband can never bear to make you wait very long. 

“Find your peak, my love,” Harwin huffs as he strokes his length, “Cover him with it.” 

As always, you do as he commands. The knot in your belly finally snaps once more and you moan above Daemon, practically crying at the way each wave of your orgasm crashes over you, sending shivers down your spine. The prince slurps noisily below you, savoring your release as his cock twitches, leaking heavily onto his stomach. 

“Ah!” You cry, hips twitching as Daemon’s tongue persists against you, only stopping when you lift yourself off of him and settle back onto his chest, “Seven Hells.” You breathe, your wet slit pressed tightly against the center of Daemon’s chest. 

Harwin once again kneels on the bed and you peer over your shoulder, eyes widening as you see him swipe a finger through the pool of of arousal leaking from the flushed head of the prince’s cock, where it rests against his stomach, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which makes the man below you groan. 

“Seems he wants something,” Harwin teases, “Shall we let him have it?”

“Please, sir,” you whine, nodding pathetically at the chance to finally sink onto Daemon’s cock, “Let him, please!”

“Aww, sweet thing,” Harwin coos, tenderly caressing your cheek, “Thank you, although you are not who I wish to hear from.” 

At that, you can feel Daemon squirm beneath you, a determined set to his eyes, “Forget it.” He shakes his head, hands tracing over your curves. 

“Really?” Harwin asks, reaching behind you and grabbing Daemon’s aching length, stroking him slowly, making the prince’s body go rigid as he practically whines beneath you, “You don’t want to feel our lady’s sweet little cunt on your cock?” 

“Seven—“ Daemon chokes, hands gripping your waist enough to bruise. You can’t help but ruck your hips against him, your bud dragging deliciously against the barely there hair on his chest, “Fuck you, Strong.” He grunts, legs twitching as Harwin meanly squeezes at his length. 

“I don’t think it’s me you want to fuck,” your husband taunts, shaking his head, “I know you want it, know you want to have your way with my little wife,” you can tell when Harwin begins stroking Daemon’s length again as the man underneath you tenses, his muscles pulling taut, “Simply ask nicely and you may have her.” 

You watch Daemon for a moment, studying the pained look on his face, his jaw still clenched and determined. You know he won’t do as your husband commands, still too proud no matter how true Harwin’s taunts are. So, you take pity on him, unable to reign in your own desire either. Bracing your hands on his chest, you move yourself back along the length of his torso, coming to hover over his stomach just above where your husband continues teasing at his length. 

Leaning down, you gently kiss along Daemon’s jaw until your lips are positioned just under his ear, “Tell him what he wants to hear,” you implore, your breath tickling his pale skin, “I want it as badly as you, please my prince, please just do as he asks.” You beg, rutting your hips against his firm stomach. 

Daemon opens his eyes finally, dark with desire as he looks at you, watching as you nod encouragingly, your own brows set in a pleading furrow. Again, the prince sighs, his body deflating, “Please,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper at first, growing louder once you dip your head down and begin teasing his neck, “Please let me fuck her, let me please her.” 

“Let you fuck who?” Harwin teases, finally releasing Daemon’s cock. 

“Please, let me fuck your pretty wife,” Daemon sighs, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, making you gasp and rut your hips against his stomach again, “Please, ser.” 

“That wasn’t so difficult, hm?” Your husband chuckles, making himself comfortable at the head of the bed, his back against the plush pillows. He fixes you in his dark gaze, muscular arms folded over his chest, “Ride him. Tame our dragon, sweetling.” 

Our dragon. Again, his words make you shiver and you nod wordlessly, sliding further down Daemon’s lithe body before your center, dripping and aching, is finally positioned over his length. Once more, you look down at the prince’s face, his silvery hair spread in a halo around his head; he’s breathing harshly, his cock twitching against your center as he gazes at you, the animalistic lust in his eyes replaced with a glimmer that makes your heart twist — you’ve seen the same one in Harwin’s dark eyes time and time again. 

Before you have time to dwell on it, Daemon’s hands grip your hips, pushing you down slowly. Both of you groan, his length stretching you deliciously. You brace your hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your hips sink lower and lower, cursing as he’s finally pressed inside you completely, his cock filling every inch of you as your walls pulse around him. 

“Fuck,” Daemon grunts, his hands gripping at your waist and hips as his eyes roll back, “Tight little cunt, so good.” His hands suddenly grip your ass, making you whimper and grind yourself against him at the feel of his rough hands against your still tender skin. 

You can’t help the moans and whimpers that escape your lips as you begin rocking in Daemon’s lap, angling your hips in a way that causes his head to brush against that spot deep within you, the one that makes your head spin. “Gods, shit!” You can’t help but gasp at the way he feels inside you, his cock stretching you nicely — not as wide as Harwin’s but just a hair longer, filling you to the brim. 

“Does he feel good, my love?” Your husband asks, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. You nod as you meet his eyes, the brown almost totally taken over by blackness as he relaxes against the pillows, eyes sweeping up and down your body as he watches you grind yourself atop the prince, “How does she feel, your grace?” He addresses Daemon. 

The man below you groans, the wild look returning to his eyes as you start bouncing more frantically, “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and pulling you down to him, your chests pressing together, “Perfect, wet, fuck, wet little cunt.” He groans into your neck, hands gripping at your ass again. 

You whine at the feel of his lips and teeth on your neck, your hands tangling in his hair. You whimper when you feel him bend his legs behind you, his thighs pressing against your bum; your whimpers turn to sharp cries as he begins thrusting up into you, spearing you down onto his cock over and over, the head nearly kissing your cervix as he does. 

Your cries rise in volume the closer you get, your thighs tensed against his movements as the knot in your stomach tightens, your walls clutching at his length. You gasp as one of his hands comes up, abandoning your ass to wrap lightly around your throat, only holding it instead of squeezing. His movements make your bud rub against the small thatch of hair at the base of his cock, sending sparks throughout your body.

“Ooh, she’s getting close,” Harwin observes, lightly tugging at his length as he watches you come undone atop Daemon, “Don’t you want her to soak your cock?”

“Gods,” Daemon groans, feeling the way your walls keep getting somehow tighter around his cock. He pants as he moves his hips faster, punching his length into you relentlessly, savoring the way you gasp and moan into his mouth, “Yes, yes want it.” He groans brokenly, spiraling toward his own release as well. 

“Aren’t you going to ask my permission?” Harwin teases, smirk spreading across his face at the frustrated groan that leaves Daemon. “You need my permission to make her peak,” your husband says, his gravelly tone making you shiver as you lose yourself, “Beg for it.” 

This time, thankfully, Daemon does not protest, both of you too desperate. “Fucking hell,” he hisses, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, “Please, fuck, please I need to make her peak, please!” He huffs, pressing his forehead against your own, staring deeply into your eyes as he grabs at any flesh of yours he can reach. 

“Very good,” you do not miss the way Daemon shivers at Harwin’s praises, “Make her come undone.” Your husband commands. 

At this, one of Daemon’s hands buries itself between your two bodies, fingers frantically seeking out your bud and rubbing tight, wet circles into the sensitive flesh. Within seconds, you unravel, light bursting behind your eyelids as you cry out, fire igniting in your veins. Your walls pulse around Daemon’s cock as you cry out, your whole body shaking as your release flows over you in waves. 

Even through the blinding pleasure you can tell Daemon is teetering on the edge, savoring your orgasm before he allows himself his own. Harwin can tell too and his smirk grows, a devious idea coming to mind, “You cannot finish inside her,” he growls, shaking his head at Daemon, “That is mine and mine alone.”

The prince curses, his eyes squeeze shut as he manages to lift you up, pushing you back to sit atop his thighs as one of his hands comes up to strip at his cock a scant few times before a low, rumbling growl settles in his chest. A second later, he jerks suddenly, abdomen contracting as he finishes over his fist, pearly cum dripping onto his stomach, some of it shooting onto your chest and torso as well, making you gasp. 

The two of you breathe heavily as you collapse forward onto his chest, your tired muscles unable to hold you up; you whimper softly at the feel of his seed on your stomach, one of his hands stroking over your hair. “Thank you.” You sigh. 

He laughs, kissing the top of your head, “You need not thank me, princess,” he says tiredly, his choice of pet name making your heart skip a beat, “The pleasure was mine.” 

You feel the bed shift beside you before a pair of lips descend upon your back, kissing up to your shoulder. Your husband pushes your hair back and you smile up at him shyly. “You are truly perfection, my little love,” he smiles, “Has our dragon tired you out?” 

You shake your head, reaching out for Harwin, “I want you,” you breathe, letting him flip you onto your back until you’re lying next to Daemon, “Please, take me, my love.” You beg, grabbing onto every part of Harwin you can as he positions himself between your legs. 

“Fuck her,” Daemon says suddenly, his eyes scanning over Harwin, “I wish to see her break.” 

You shudder at his words, your core clenching at nothing, making you whine. Harwin shushes you lovingly, running his length through the slick still dripping from your center. “Shh, I will give you what you want, sweet one,” he says as he pushes his head into you, already deliciously stretching you, “As I always do, always will.” He grunts, sinking into you. 

Your eyes flutter, his cock still stretching your walls, causing your center to ache beautifully, your back arching on the furs. “Gods,” you breathe, moaning as Harwin bends down to lick into your mouth, your hands grabbing at his thick shoulders, “You feel so good inside me.”

He chuckles into your mouth before leaning back up, brown eyes gazing down at you adoringly, watching your chest bounce with every frantic breath you take as his hips finally press against yours. Groaning, he grabs at the backs of your knees, your legs bending as he pins them back, nearly folding you in half. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, rutting into you as you squirm beneath him, “I swear to the Seven you feel better every time.” He praises, looking down at where his cock disappears into you, marveling at the way your cunt shines in the light of the many candles placed around your chambers. 

The two of you move together for many moments, slick sounds from your center making you blush as you lose yourself in Harwin’s strong thrusts. He knows exactly how to unwind you after this much time together, and he wastes no time in doing so, a proud smile on his face as he feels your muscles tensing underneath him. 

“Close already, pretty girl?” He asks, his curls tumbling wildly as he moves. You nod, words catching in your throat as you clench around his thick cock. 

Beside you, Daemon, who has been watching with dark eyes all the while, slowly strokes his length, his other hand resting on your throat once more, his own breath growing more ragged each minute. 

Harwin’s gaze shifts to him, his thrusts speeding up as he looks over the prince’s lean figure, “Up,” he commands, motioning for Daemon to stand next to him, “Watch as I claim her, see her in the way I do.” 

Again, Daemon listens without a fight, rising from his place next to you as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Harwin as he continues pumping at his cock, breathing heavily as he stares at the place where you and your husband connect. 

Harwin bends down suddenly, the motion pulling his length from you and causing you to whine — though that quickly turns to a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue lick at your stomach. Tilting your head up, you look down in just enough time to see his tongue sweep through the pool of Daemon’s seed, still splattered on you. “Oh!” You exclaim, surprised as you watch your husband gather the other man’s spend on his tongue. 

Leaning up, Harwin once again spears you on length before hovering his face over yours, his eyes searching your gaze. Knowing what he wants, you open your mouth, smiling through moans at the familiar sight of him gathering spit in his mouth. A second later, he is leaning down again, his lips  nearly connecting with yours as he spits into your waiting mouth, sharing Daemon’s seed with you. 

Your eyes roll back as you swallow, savoring the unfamiliar, heady taste of the prince as your cunt flutters. Above you, Daemon lets out a groan so loud he almost sounds as if he’s in pain. 

“Good girl,” Harwin praises, smoothing a hand through your hair as he resumes his harsh thrusts, his other hand bracing itself against your lower stomach, thumb toying with your bud, “My good girl.” 

“Seven Hells.” Daemon groans, fisting his cock harder and faster as he nears his own release. 

“I’m close, my love,” Harwin pants, his thumb pressing against your bud harder, making your hips twitch under him, “With me?” He asks, half lidded eyes watching your own. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan in time with each of his thrusts, nodding your head wildly as you thrash within his grasp, pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Watch as I claim her,” he commands Daemon, tangling a hand into his silvery hair, pointing his gaze exactly where he wants it — where the two of you connect, “Watch as I breed our princess.” 

His words send you over the edge, your walls milking his length as you feel the heat of the two men’s gazes fixed on your cunt. You gasp as your peak washes over you once more, the strongest of the night, causing your entire body to spasm uncontrollably in Harwin’s strong grasp. 

Above you, Harwin grunts as his cock spasms within you, painting your walls with his seed. As he tips over the edge, he turns his head to Daemon, pulling the dragon to him, their mouths crashing together. Hearing their twin groans, you manage to open your eyes, the sight before you nearly making you peak again. Their lips battling for dominance, neither relenting as their tongues tangle together, grunts and growls filling each other's mouths. 

Daemon finishes at nearly the same second your husband does, his seed splattering onto the furs beside you as his chest heaves. 

Harwin comes to a stop within you, his hand softening in Daemon’s hair though he does not pull away. You watch them kiss for a moment more, surprised at the heat building within you at the sight. Your walls clench around your husband's spent cock, making him jump and finally pull away from the other man, facing you with a knowing smile as you blush, your eyes flitting between four others. 

“Vaogenka riña,” Daemon drawls, his hands grasping one of your legs, massaging the muscle of your calf as your foot rests delicately on the center of his chest, “Taking pleasure from watching your husband with another.” (Dirty girl.)

“Watching him with you.” You clarify with a grin. 

Happily groaning, Harwin withdraws his length from you, shushing you as you whine. You feel your husband's seed dripping from you a moment later and both men hum appreciatively at the sight. 

“Shall I draw us a bath, sweetling?” Harwin asks, brushing sweat from your forehead, “I know you do not like to go to sleep so dirty, though if you are too spent…” 

You shake your head, giggling as both men help you stand on shaky legs, “I would gladly take a bath, husband,” you look between the two of them before your gaze settles on Daemon, “With both of you?” 

Daemon kisses you, much sweeter than he had before, “Hen rhinka, dārilaros.” He smiles, picking you up by the backs of your legs, making you squeal with laughter as he carries you over to the tub, sitting on the edge with you on his lap as Harwin prepares the bath, just the way you like. (Of course, princess.)

A few moments, and kisses, later your husband confirms it’s ready. He steps into the bath first with a curse, “I do not know how you find pleasure in this heat,” he jokes, gritting his teeth as his skin grows accustomed to the hot water, “Caraxes may as well be burning me where I stand.” 

Daemon laughs at that, the two men helping you into the bath, settling you against Harwin, a position you’d taken many times before. You sigh gratefully as the water warms your tired skin, the sweet smelling oils relaxing you, “Hush,” you chuckle, watching as the prince lowers himself into the water as well, on the opposite end of the large tub, “It feels perfect.” 

Daemon sighs in agreement, long arms resting on the lip of the tub as he tilts his head back, the steam making silvery strands of his hair cling to his shoulders and chest. “Perfection indeed.” He says contentedly, making Harwin’s chest shake with laughter against your back. 

Your eyes droop closed after a moment, Daemon massaging your feet and legs as Harwin busies himself with washing your shoulders, neck, and chest.

A gentle breeze billows through the sheer curtains of your chambers, the cool air feeling delicious on your heated skin, the smell of Aemma’s sweet blossoms in the palace gardens making your lips quirk up into a tired smile. 

“Sleep, princess.” Harwin commands gently, whispering against your neck. 

“Ēdrugon.” Daemon echos. (Sleep.)

You obey.

taglist: @fan-goddess @marthawrites @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[cameronsprincess]

IM BACK I DONT KNOW IF IM ALLOWED TO REQUEST TWO FOR UR 5K CELEBRATION but can u do a smut with rafe where he does the bull rider position and reader FLIPS the fuck out LMAO

let me just say… if a man tried this shit with me he’d end up choking on his teeth once i got him off me🤠

CW: smut! 18+ only! strong language, bull rider position (really just doggy but the bull rider name has a meaning behind it lmaooo), piv sex, rafe is a diiiick for this😭 slightly angsty? idk.

all 5k moodboards/blurbs here!

“oh god, rafe! don’t… don’t stop, fuck!”

rafe picks up his pace, his hands tightly gripping at your hips as he brutally pounds himself inside you. your pussy clenches around him, squeezing at his dick tightly. rafe loosened his grip on your hips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, squeezing as he leans forward, pressing his front against your back.

you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, his lips ghosting across the shell of your ear. he slows his pace, pulling his cock out of you until only the tip is left inside, forcefully slamming himself forward. you suck in a sharp breath, so close to the edge you could scream. rafe nips at the lobe of your ear, repeating his actions before his raspy voice flows through your ears.

“your best friend fucks better than you…”

the words slam into your head, anger rushing through your veins as rafe squeezes his arms tighter around you, laughing as you buck and fight, trying to push him off you.

“what the fuck did you just say?” you buck, your arms flying behind you and gripping at his arm, nails digging into the skin as you try and pry him off you.

rafe continues laughing, picking up the pace of his hips again, the head of his dick repeatedly hitting at that spot inside you that had your toes curling and knocking the breath out of you, but you’re too angry to even think of the pleasure he’s bringing you right now. you want him off of you. now.

“oh c’mon, baby. stop fightin’ me, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.. ‘m so close, you still want me to fill this pussy up with my cum?”

you claw at his arm, bucking your entire body as you try and fight him off of you, but it’s no use, rafe is too strong, and his grip around your waist tightens with each thrash of your body. you’ve been with rafe for six months, and he’s never once pushed you the way he just did. when did him and your best friend even fuck? did he mean what he said?

red, hot anger flashes through you again. gathering your strength, you begin to fight him harder, needing him to get the hell off of you.

“rafe! i’m so fucking serious if you don’t get the fuck off of me, i will fucking kill you!”

rafe’s laughter fills the room, making the anger you feel grow. he thinks this is funny?

“stop fighting, baby. you’re turning me on, i love it when you’re angry.”

tears fill your eyes as you continue to fight him, pushing, bucking, clawing, doing anything you can to get him off. finally, you dig your nails into his forearm, making him loosen his hold just enough for you to shove him off of you. you scramble off the bed, quickly grabbing his oversized t-shirt off the ground and tossing it over your head. you cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowed as you face him.

he has an amused smirk on his face, his tongue pressing into his cheek.

“oh don’t look at me like that, baby..” he says, placing his large hands on his thighs as he levels you with his own glare.

you scoff. “you said my best friend fucks better than me. while you were fucking me! what the fuck is your problem?!” you shout, stepping toward him and slapping him across the face.

rafe’s head whips to the side, a low laugh escaping him as he slowly turns his head to face you again. he stands from the bed, and you shrink into yourself a little, shaking your head at how ridiculous you look, you’re not afraid of him. you stand straight, stepping into his body, your chest brushing against his.

“god you’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

you lift your hand to slap him again, but he catches your wrist mid-air, holding it in place and squeezing. you wince at the pain, but you don’t back down.

“fuck. you. rafe.” you say slowly, trying to jerk your hand from his hold.

he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. he runs a hand down the back of your head, placing a kiss to the top of it before he says, “baby, it was a joke. i haven’t fucked your best friend, i just..” he stops, laughing as he tries to explain. “i just saw some shit online and wanted to try it out, wanted to see how much of a fight you’d put up.”

you gasp, trying to pull out of his hold, but he squeezes you tighter, not allowing you to pull away from him.

“i’m sorry baby, i shouldn’t have done it, but goddamn you’re so sexy when you fight me. your anger turns me on.”

you fight against him again, not wanting him to touch you. joke or not, it’s still fucked up and you’re so pissed at him you just want him to leave you alone for now.

“that’s not fuckin’ funny, rafe! i’m so fucking mad at you right now! i don’t even want you around me! let me go!” you shout, tears filling your eyes as you try and fight out of his hold.

rafe releases you, allowing you to step back. his face softens when he sees the unshed tears filling your beautiful eyes. “i’m sorry baby, i shouldn’t have done it, my fault.”

you roll your eyes. “your apology means shit to me right now.”

rafe sighs, grabbing his boxers off the ground and sliding them on. he tries to step toward you, but you take a step back, shaking your head. “no. you should go. i’ll call you later.”

“baby-”

you throw your hand up, stopping whatever he had to say. “no, rafe! i’m serious just fucking go! i’ll call you later once i’ve calmed down.”

rafe runs a hand through his messy hair, quickly getting dressed before he grabs his phone and moves to leave. he faces you one final time, opening his mouth to say something but ultimately deciding against it. you stand in the middle of your room, watching as he walks out.

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @oceandriveab @httpsdrewstarkey @drewsephrry @babygorewhore @bloodibambiidoll @rafeyscurtainbangs

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think!

masterlist

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

Or

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[chrissturnsfav]

singer!reader and rapper!chris going out in public for the first time as a couple 🙏🏻

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris and singer!reader go out after announcing their relationship

the moment you step out of the sleek black escalade, a wave of flashing lights explodes in your face, blinding and relentless.

your hand tightens around chris' as your heels hit the pavement, instinctively seeking reassurance in his presence. he’s calm, or at least he looks it—a towering, cocky figure in his signature oversized fresh love hoodie and chain glinting under the relentless camera flashes.

but even his steady energy doesn’t make the chaos any less overwhelming.

the paparazzi are like a storm, shouting questions, calling your name, calling his name. they surge closer, despite the burly bodyguards who form a human barricade around you.

"chris! look over here!"

"are you two moving in together?"

"how does it feel to finally go public?"

their voices are a chaotic blur, jabbing and prodding with every invasive question. you feel chris start to stiffen beside you, his towering frame cutting through the chaos like a wall, but even he can’t ignore how relentless they’re being.

you're both used to this, living in the fame, being bombarded by paparazzi and invasive questions. but this time it's different, both of you have never been so viciously swarmed.

“back up!” one of the bodyguards barks, his arms spread wide, but it barely makes a dent. a camera flashes inches from your face, and you flinch instinctively, your free hand darting to adjust your sunglasses.

chris’s hand tightens around yours, his grip almost too firm now, and you can feel the frustration radiating off him like heat beneath the confident front he puts up. “yo, chill!” he snaps at the crowd, his voice deep and cutting through the noise.

the shouting doesn’t stop, though. if anything, it grows louder. they’re not just taking pictures—they’re circling, pressing, trying to get closer. one of them stumbles into the bodyguard’s arm, and that’s when chris loses it.

“yo, BACK UP!” he bellows, his voice booming above the chaos. the air seems to shift. the crowd pauses for a fraction of a second before surging forward again, emboldened by his reaction.

his jaw clenches, and he pulls you tighter to him, his protective arm curling around your shoulders. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back. “fuckin' relax!” he shouts again, his voice sharper now, almost furious.

part of you wants to tug him toward the safety of the restaurant doors out of anxiety, but another part is relieved he’s standing his ground. you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“chris,” you murmur anxiously, just loud enough for him to hear.

his gaze snaps to yours, his features softening instantly. he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if to clear it. “i gotchu,” he mutters, his tone quieter but still edged with frustration. at his words, you grow a bit calmer and you believe him. you always do.

chris squeezes your hand again, his grip firm and grounding. he doesn’t let go, not even when someone shouts something crude about your shimmery mini skirt, not even when you falter slightly on the curb.

finally, the heavy doors of the upscale restaurant swing open, and the noise dims, replaced by the cool hum of ritzy music and polite conversation.

chris lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and you can’t help but laugh—quiet, nervous, but real.

he glances at you as he tugs you along to make his way up to the hostess podium, his brows furrowed, "what?" he murmurs, a small chuckle leaving his lips at your laughter.

you shake your head, snickering as you speak over the chatter, "just never been swarmed so bad like that before."

chris smirks cockily down at you, leaning down to speak in your ear, "get used t'it."

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[defmaybe]

Pegging & Penetration

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung & Kim Gaeul x Male Reader

1.1k words

A/N: Thanks to @capslocked for the idea lmao. Also, this is my last work before the finals, I promise.

—

The sound of plastic cocks filling holes—two of each, to be exact—echoes through the room. You find yourself naked on the bed, on all fours. Your rear is being rammed by Gaeul’s phallus, while your mouth, breathlessly, is being used by Wonyoung.

“Yes, yes, bitch boy–” Gaeul gives your ass a slap, and you moan into Wonyoung’s strap in response “–just take my cock like that.”

“Look at me while you’re sucking my cock, slut,” says Wonyoung. You immediately comply, looking up to see that gorgeous face and her naked body. Your neck strains‌ a little.

You absolutely adore the way these two are treating you—like a toy made to be used just for their twisted pleasures. Your tears are running down your cheeks from Wonyoung’s cock, constantly hitting the back of your throat with no relent. Your jaw is all tired from taking in Wonyoung’s length, drooling on her shaft, but you won’t complain. Being a submissive bitch boy is what you’re made for, and you’d pay fortunes to do this, even if it’s just a second.

Your ass is all gaped at this point. Gaeul fucks you hard, too hard. The tip of her cock hits your prostate repeatedly, sending shockwaves through your body over and over. Her nails dig into your waist for a hold. She wants her bitch boy to take in her hardness fully. You can hear her ragged breathing from all of that plowing into your tight ass. She fucking loves this.

Sweat runs down from your forehead, mixing with your drool on the bedsheets. It’s merely an inconvenience to have dirty laundry for those poor staff to take care of. Everybody knows this, they just don’t dare to intervene. Gaeul and Wonyoung always do this. They love the complete domination of men who are willing to be their bitch boys. Either it would be draining them dry, or penetrate their rear hole into oblivion. Having men scream ‘daddy’ for them is like a drug for these two.

“You love this, huh?” asks Gaeul, sternly.

You can only sheepishly nod, with your mouth stuffed by Wonyoung’s phallus. The pleasure from this is unreal, having two naked women plowing your two holes for fun. You love to submit to them. You love having your prostate stimulated. It’s so fucking ecstatic.

The story of how you three met is never a secret: you’re a Starship Entertainment employee, they’re also Starship Entertainment employees. You happen to have a cute face, slutty waist, and nice ass (all are their words). With proximity and all, it's a perfect recipe for a rendezvous within IVE’s dorm. Jiwon and Yujin aren’t going to complain. They wear earmuffs every night.

“Do you think Rei would like him, Gaeul?” Wonyoung asks, hips rolling back and forth to push her cock in and out of your mouth. Her hands grip onto your head tightly, not wanting to lose her hole.

“I think she’s more of a vanilla type,” Gaeul answers. Her nails are still latching onto your wide hips tightly. “You know, cock in cunt, missionary type. She probably wouldn’t enjoy plowing his ass like this, right?”

Wonyoung lets out a short exhale, amused by her friend’s choice of accenting specific words. Her cock is still ravaging your mouth relentlessly. She’s revelling in fucking your throat, judging from the sadistic smile on her face. It’s predatory, and you’re the willing prey for her.

Suddenly, Gaeul presses you into lying on your stomach. Your mouth is dragged off Wonyoung’s cock temporarily.

“Hey, I was fucking his mouth!”

“I’ll fucking make him cum. Watch me.”

Gaeul strokes become even more violent. You can hear her deep moans from behind. Your moans grow even higher as she plows your ass with unbridled aggression.

“Ugh, let me have this, Gaeul.”

“Just fucking lift his chin up. I’m sure he’ll follow you, right, bitch boy?” Gaeul asks.

“Y–Yes–ngh, d–daddy,” you reply.

Wonyoung lets out a deep sigh, before grabbing your chin, making a short eye contact with you. You have to admit that you’re a bit lost in her eyes as she does so. Your eyes roam over her bare body for a split-second before she forces her drool-smeared cock into your dirty mouth. Your holes are filled again. Your breaths are stolen.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Gaeul says.

“Just–Just fuck his ass, Gaeul.”

Again, you’re revelling in the way you’re being used like this. Your ass is being spread open by Gaeul’s throbbing length without any care. You feel the ridges of her cock grazing your inner walls, eliciting wails and wails out of you onto Wonyoung’s hardness. Your cock twitches between the mattress and your stomach. You can feel the pain jolting through your waist, but it’s like you’d care right now. 

Your mouth is being forced open by Wonyoung’s cock, ravaging the hole with unbridled roughness. You see her pert breasts heaving with each rolling of her hips. God, you’re so happy being used and abused by two women.

Gaeul grabs your throat, robbing the already-scarce air from you. You can barely breathe, and you’re so damn ecstatic about it. The sensations within your walls only grow. You can feel your orgasm coming in close. It’s there. It’s there.

“D–Daddy,” you say, muffled into Wonyoung’s cock.

“What, gonna cum, slut?” Wonyoung asks, plunging her length into your mouth even faster.

You can only nod, not having any energy to say a thing, only moans and whimpers.

“Should we let him cum, Gaeul?”

Gaeul chuckles, still plowing her cock into your tightness with unmatched violence. “Sure, if you want, Wonyoung.”

“Cum then, bitch boy, cum for us.”

You give in. Cum leaks out of your cock through the slit onto the bedsheets, all while still having your holes filled by the two women. Your body shakes and writhes erratically. Your eyes flutter in rapture. You’re struggling to grip on any purchase on the bed. Gaeul slows down, finally, so does Wonyoung, before they’d pull their lengths out of your abused holes. Your frame shrieks again in sensitivity.

“D–Daddy,” you moan out. “That felt so good, daddy.”

You hear Gaeul chuckle from behind as Wonyoung smiles. “Alright, bitch boy, let’s go to the shower. Perhaps you might be sucking my cock instead while Wonyoung, well, spread that cute ass of yours open.”

“Y–Yes, daddy.”

—

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got their, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[peachiejeongin]

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged and folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Minho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Minho ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" he follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

[gguk-n]

hey could you maybe write a lando x reader where when it was clear that lando lost the championship the reader just comforts him but he is distancing himself from her but she doesn’t give up on him so pls a happy end ❤️

established relationship, not very angsty, short

My World Champion

Things had been rough between the pair for a few months. With the mounting pressure on Lando to perform had left him pushing all those close to him away. He wasn't very happy with it but he felt like maybe he could focus better. The person who had to deal with the brunt of Lando's distance was his girlfriend, Y/N. They'd been together for a while and friends for longer. They just got each other like no other but lately Y/N felt like she didn't know Lando as well as she used to.

Y/N did try to bring up the distance. It was Azerbaijan, "Lan, don't you think we barely talk" Y/N spoke slowly, trying to start a conversation with her boyfriend who was sat across from her on the sofa. He didn't bother to even look up, "What's there to talk about when I'm busy trying to win a championship. Let me focus" he huffed. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought we could spend some time together" Y/N trailed off. "We are sat together right now. How much more time do you want to spend with me?" Lando sighed and finally looked up from his laptop. "I just" she felt her voice die in her throat. 'I don't remember the last time we kissed Lan' her brain thought as she got up and left the room before another fight ensued.

It was during the winter break when things were starting to look up. Lando had just won the Singapore GP, he was more attentive and present; they even cuddled the whole day. Y/N thought that she had her boyfriend back. Oh how wrong she was because as soon as they were back on track; Lando was back to square one. The Austin loss hit deep, making Lando double down on strategising and spending every waking hour with the team or thinking about Formula One. It was like he forgot Y/N existed or for that matter himself. She would sit there and stare at her boyfriend who looked more and more like a stranger with each passing day.

Things had become rocky between them. She felt the divide growing with each passing weekend. Mexico wasn't any better. But Brazil landed a huge blow to Lando. He shut down, he stopped talking to anyone and spent all his time scrolling on his phone. There was nothing she could do without Lando walking out or shutting the door on her face. So, she sat and waited. She would cook his favourite food or leave out his favourite snacks to munch on. But she didn't make much break through on him; as he still chooses to stay reserved, opting to carry the burden alone.

It was after the Las Vegas quali, when Y/N noticed the light begin leave Lando's eyes. All she could offer were words and cuddles but Lando had put up a wall between them. The bed seemed too big for the two of them with either on each side. She stared at the space in between them wondering when it had gotten this big.

After the race, Y/N sighed a sigh of relief. The Championship battle was over and that meant she got her Lando back. She saw glimpses of him when he congratulated Max and couldn't wait to jump into his arms. But it was like Lando was back, just not for her.

That night, they spent it like any other, on either side of the bed. But as Y/N tried to fall asleep, she felt the bed shake. On further inspection, she saw Lando's frame quietly shaking from the sobs as he tried to not make any noise. Her heart hurt watching him, she slowly scooted over causing Lando to stop crying for a moment. She wrapped her arm around his torso and buried her head in his neck. "I love you, my world champion" she whispered causing Lando to turn around. His face was streaked with tears which she carefully wiped off. "I don't like it when you cry" she muttered and pecked his lips. "I thought you fell asleep" Lando mumbled. "Can't sleep without my cuddles" she quipped. "But, I'm not the world champion" was all he muttered, remembering her first comment. "For the world, no. For me, always" she smiled. Lando searched her eyes for anything, but all he found was undeterred love. "And you're not angry?" he asked. "No. I'm happy to watch you compete for the championship because I know, sooner or later you'll win it. Just waiting for that day" she reassured. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I was just" Lando spoke before she cut him off, "over whelmed. I know. But you didn't have to do it all alone. What am I here for?" she spoke tenderly. "I love you" he whispered kissing her for the first time in a long time. "I love you too, muppet" she whispered back. He looked at her for a long time as his hands pulled her closer, running along her frame; "What would I do without you?" he asked. "Crash and burn" she chided. "Agreed" he mumbled pulling her in for another kiss. "You alway know how to make me happy" he mumbled in between kisses. "Only when you listen to me. Otherwise you're Mr Grumpy" she chuckled. "I promise not to be Mr Grumpy anymore" he laughed kissing her again. "Next time I'm grumpy, kiss me. I think all my worries melt away with your kisses" he said pressing her against him. "So, the next time you start an argument, I'm gonna kiss you" she said cupping his cheeks. "Best way to end an argument" he smiled pressing their foreheads together. "I won't disagree" she kissed him again, making up for all the lost time.

[hyukascampfire]

OKAYYY FINALLY I GET TO RN THIS. first of all, thank you so much for reading :,) just know that i read this so many times over. this was just the best notif to receive.

MC is also SO me. which means we are TWINSSSSS. i’m around the same age as her, and also just so sad to be letting childhood go. i tried writing that sadness out in MC, and i think the best thing ever is getting multiple messages abt how so many people relate to her. it means we’re all in this together. we’re not alone in our feelings, which is honestly the biggest comfort to me.

COMPLIMENTING MY MUSIC TASTEEE. you are the loml. AND you listened while reading. as intended. i literally could not be happier. i was feeling that playlist while writing🤤

and then you compiled all your favorite quotes here 😭 stop. i am so giddy. those are some of my favorite from the fic as well. especially “you clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. you refuse to acknowledge its end.” that one i am so proud of, for how incredibly powerfully it illustrates how i feel about this stage of my life. im glad that the stars aligned and my brain was in the right mood to put that on paper.

and oh my god, if that’s the same erin morgenstern as the night circus, i will absolutely be reading it. ABSOLUTELYYYY.

I LOVE FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. and ALSO dog days. i think our music tastes are lovers. dog days is so so so perfect. thank you so much for reading, kipo. i think you’ve made my whole life with this rb. i’m so deeply in love with the way this story came out. at first, it was just a few bare bones scenes, and it just kept on growing and growing and i really knew i had to see it out. i think it flourished so beautifully:,))

THE BLOCK OF TAGS hell yeah.

ribs playing at the ending and scott street and more than this during the confession oh shuffle had it OUT for you 😭 but i also think those songs at those specific scenes are PERFECT.

and yeah FUCK yeonjun!!! it was tough writing him like that 😕

IM SO PROUD OF THE MOTH SYMBOLISM. i wanted it to feel like, even when kai and MC were lost and confused and apart, they were never really alone, and there were perhaps bigger things at play here. or maybe even the instances of moths appearing were nothing more than coincidence (of course except for at the creek and during the confession). i want to leave it up to the reader to decide that.

OKAY I GOTTA CUT THIS RB OFF because it’s lagging to even type because it’s all so long. i wish i could say more omg i could talk about it forever with you. thank you so much for reading, like really so so so much. T^T

𝑯EART 𝑊ORM ⸺ hueningkai ℘˒´ˎ˗

  ⨾𓍢ִ໋ ˒˒ 𝚑𝔢art𝚠𝔬rm

[𝑛]. a relationship or friendship that you can't get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

〝﹙ 📼 ﹚“I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?”  ˛ ､､

wc ➛ 17.9k

���airings childhood bsf!kai x reader (lowkey soulmates?) ⤷ ft. asshole!yeonjun x reader

𝒢 ‎; smut ˒ angst ˒ some fantasy

𝔴arnings angst, family issues, fingering, jealousy (i’m sorry i just love ts), yeonjun really is an asshole, orgasm denial, thigh fucking, unprotected sex (they're stupid!), strength kink a lil bit, breeding kink, possessiveness, creampie, choking... i think that's all, lmk if i missed any

✎୭ ashlynn's note omg. this was such a fun palate cleanser to write. this wasn't supposed to be as big as it is, but it just kept getting bigger and bigger, and i got super into the story. this kai is SOOOO!! yeah. i’m so nervous posting this because i’ve only ever posted TSFAWC, but…. here you areee (^^;; this is not proofread, so if you see a mistake... give me a sec. i'll get to it. hehe

Though you fan your hand furiously over your face, the little breezes washing over your clammy skin are not enough. The air is thick and heavy with summer’s heat. So thick that you almost feel it each time you swallow. It’s better than just letting yourself melt away, though. The cushion at your back doesn’t help much. It holds your warmth and returns it to you the longer you sit slumped back into it. You suffer it though—you’ve gone too sluggish to move.  

You let a leg dangle over the arm of a chair, watching a hopeful moth dance in the light of the buzzing porch light overhead. It flutters frantically in it, making a grand fight to reach that false moonlight, only to drop away when it realizes that it’s being burnt. You watch it rinse and repeat, relentless and sure, for who knows how long. It’s no special moth—no luna moth or the ones with the pretty pink wings—but the light falls down on it and colors it a pleasant stardust silver.  

You delight in letting your conscious brain turn off to watch it. It lets you forget the sweltering under your skin, and also that Kai had drug you out here. His dad gives him shit when he plays inside, but it’s way too hot to be out here. Isn’t it supposed to cool off after the sun goes down? It doesn’t feel like it. The deep acoustics are drowned out each time a car whirrs by. Playing outside should be the best option, but you and Kai live right on a busy road.  

When the roar of some car going ten miles over the speed limit doesn’t obscure his playing, though, you admire the intricacy of it. His fingers work up and down the neck, jumping frets that you imagine would be impossible to anybody without those long fingers of his. You had always been a loud supporter of his playing, even way back when the most he could play were simple chords, but you became especially so when a few years back he put a guitar in your hands and tried teaching you. Even with his fingers guiding yours, it was quick to learn that the effortlessness with which Kai handles the instrument is hard earned.  

He practices on the acoustic guitar, but that’s not his domain. With houses just a dash across the street from each other, Kai had grown up at your home more than he had at his own. So vividly, you remember the stars in his eyes when he’d listen to your dad’s music. Metallica, The Smashing Pumpkins, Linkin Park, any of it. He had fallen in love with it a long time ago. Your whole life you knew that it was only a matter of time before he was in his own band, chasing his dreams with a boundless mind and an indelible vision of himself on stage. How had that time come so soon, though? You don’t know if the notebooks full of inky lyrics that live wherever he deems inspiration might hit him make you proud or nervous. He’s making good on his dazzling aspirations, and you? 

You speak finally into the air, cutting through heat waves and his music and the night. “Isn’t it weird that we’re not going back to school after this summer?” 

He doesn’t have to even stop playing to answer you. Playing comes to him as a second nature. “Kinda,” he answers, brown eyes flitting up to you. “But it’s not like you won’t be back to it in September. College is the same shit.” 

The leg you’d been dangling and bouncing pauses. That’s right; you’re supposed to be going to that college you’d chosen because it was only a three-hour drive away from here. You pluck at the seat’s threadbare fabric, and the moth, still there, becomes oh-so-interesting once again. When his playing stops, you drop your head back with a cushioned thud and a groan that you wrangle in your throat. 

“Why are you acting like that?” he says, voice gone sharp like accusation. He doesn’t even know the truth, but he’s known you too long.

Can’t you just keep secrets for yourself, sometimes?

Kai, arms clad in a well-loved hoodie even in this dreadful weather, lays the guitar down. You maintain your silence. “Seriously, what?” 

Some secrets have timers, though. This one could only last you until about September, or even August when he realizes that you’re not preparing to return to school. A controlled sigh from your chest isn’t enough to soothe the nerves that sparks. “Nothing.” 

“Secrets, huh?” Kai says. When you do finally look to him, black spikes of hair frame his eyes and the accusation in them. 

It’s a simple poke, but it gets under your skin as sharp as any thorn might. It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from him, and you’re sure he keeps some from you too. But those are the little kinds, the inconsequential ones—like I ate already when asked why you’re not eating or like Yeah, I’m fine when it’s been a bad day. You don’t hide this kind of stuff from each other. Usually, you’d run over to his place to tell him whatever’s bothering you. Why not, when he’s known even the worst details of your life for almost the entirety of it? You’ve been holding this one close to your chest since somewhere around the end of senior year, though. The longer you let it fester, the worse your nervousness snowballs. “C’mon, Kai. Let’s not do this. Can you keep playing?” 

He doesn’t like that, of course. But you watch recognition dawn over his chocolate brown eyes, helpless to stop it. “You’re not going,” he says. It’s not a question nor a suspicion, it’s a bone-dry fact.  

Well. There that goes. You want to tear every hair on your head right out. Why had you even thought you’d keep him in the dark about it? When he’s not out in some garage making music, you two are together. The conversation was going to stroll by at some point; this was only inevitable. His disappointment radiates off him in waves and blisters you. He hasn’t even said anything yet, but you know exactly what he thinks of it. It’s why you kept it from him in the first place.  

Your silence is enough confirmation for him. “Why?” he says. “I thought you were excited to move out.” 

Wincing, you nod slowly. You were. Even went through the whole application process, along with most other kids your age. Ultimately, you never went through with declaring a college. You don’t exactly know why, but somewhere weaseled down in the shadowy recesses of your soul, you know. Taking those steps, the massive and terrifying ones from adolescence into adulthood, meant agreeing that this form of your life was over. It meant that at some point, you’d be moving away from here to where living your days away in Kai’s room would not be a choice. Everybody has to do it eventually, you know that. Kai’s music gig could take off any day, too. He’s going to make it happen. And then what? All this stalling and wishing on just a bit more time would mean nothing, he’d be off and chasing that dream. As excited as you are for it to finally become reality for him, there’s a nasty bitterness that’s budded in your chest, infecting your person.  

Can’t things just stay like this? 

“I was,” you say. It comes out of your mouth heavy.  

“Then why aren’t you going?” he says. Crickets, never seen but always heard, sing their song into the night’s darkness. “You didn’t get rejected. You’re too smart for that.” 

An ache sits heavily somewhere near the center of your chest, maybe over your heart. All those good grades, nights spent bent over a desk and AP paperwork—you’re wasting it. You shake your head. “No... just...” It’s an effort to dress your thoughts in a way that might appease him. A quiet moment stretches with your thinking before you continue, “I don’t know what I want to do.” 

He doesn’t like that, the yellow wash of the overhead light dancing over his taut lips and hard eyes. “Don’t know what you want to do?” he says, bringing his legs up onto the seat to crisscross them. He wears his favorite jeans. They’re heel-bitten and baggy enough over his legs that he can wear them around the house without any bother. “You’ve wanted to be an artist your whole life. You know exactly what you want to do.” 

Your chest only seems to ache harder. When the both of you were only young and hopeful, you both had big dreams. Kai was going to be the face of a metal band, and you were going to be an artist. A painter, potter, sculptor, even doing animation for those big companies like Dreamworks and Disney. You wanted any of it, just as long as you were doing art. You’d even promised him that you’d do the cover art for his albums with interlocked pinkies and flushed, hopeful cheeks. That passion and love wasn’t gone from you, it blazed strong in your veins. This blaze wasn’t the kind that kept you warm and excited to push forward into life, though. It had morphed into something that scalded you when you got too close or started imagining yourself pursuing its call. It’s a taunting silvery glow, no longer a guiding north star. Taunting words of family members stamped down on that hope hard. When you were little, it was said lighthearted and in passing. The older you got, though, the more serious their faces became. They wouldn’t say it outright perhaps, but you hear what they think well enough. Art is a dead-end career.  

Shifting in your seat, you tell him, “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean?” Kai says. “There are good colleges for that.” 

“I just... don’t know.” 

Shaking his head, he tells you, “But you love it.” 

You do. In its every form, you love creating. But loving it doesn’t mean that it’s right for you, or that you should trust your future in its hands. “I think I can do it in my own time,” you say, finally pushing yourself upright from the cushion. “Don’t wanna kill the passion by doing it for a living, you know?” 

He thinks on that for a moment. “If you love it, you should do it,” he says. 

An awful frustration bubbles in your chest. Kai has always had a clear life path, the steps ahead of him set in stone and waiting for him to follow in them. It’s hard for him to see why you might not want to do the same. There’s nothing that makes you as happy as the fact that he has it all figured out, that he knows just where he’s going and that he’s so incredible at it that he doesn’t have to worry about meeting the requirements, but your path seems obscured and untrodden. Punctuating a deep, resonant sigh, you say, “It’s not that easy, Kai.” 

“If you’re not doing that, then what are you going to do? Are you just going to settle for a nine-to-five?” he says full of accusation, the tapping on his knees gone still.  

A dry laugh, you say, “Maybe I’ll marry a super rich guy and just do my art for a living. No nine-to-five.” 

His face flashes. He’d always been a bit reserved, especially around others, but he bared his emotions freely around you. You hold them dearly to your chest and made sure to do your best to make good on that trust. He says, “You’re more than some guy’s housewife.” 

Cheeks radiating in the heat, you snort. “I know, dork. I’m a rockstar’s best friend. It’s my personal favorite achievement.”  

His face sours when you reach out and pinch hard at his cheek, but he doesn’t pull away or brush you off. The skin there is warmed and clammy. Really, the two of you should go meet the cool AC inside before you suffer heat stroke. But this moment feels so nice—your shoulders feel tons lighter without something to hide. If you had it your way, things would stay like this forever. Just the two of you, sat here like you have so many times before, just taking for granted the time you’ve got together.  

His mouth opens to banter, probably something about how he’s not a rockstar yet or to get you back for calling him a dork. Wingbeat and sterling dashes about your face send the image into a blur, though. You’re a quick mess of limbs and a whipping head, as if it’ll chase the thing away from you. 

“Seriously?” Kai says. You’d climbed halfway over him, elbows digging into him and knee doing a number on his thigh. “It’s a moth. You’re not scared of moths.” 

Lingering for a few moments later to ensure the flying thing was nowhere on you or around you, you hold back a laugh before you climb off him and fix your hair with undignified tucks behind your ears. “He was in my face,” you say around a laugh, because you know it was a bit too much. Nobody likes wings in their ears and spindly legs in their face, though, and you’re in no control of what you do when anything with six legs tries and get too friendly. Even moths.  

“You just wanted me to protect you,” he says. A sarcastic, shit-eating smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.  

“Oh,” you scoff, batting your eyelashes and clasping your hands together all saccharine-sweet. “Yes, Romeo, won’t you kill that bug for me? This girl’s heart just can’t take it!” 

Kai’s nose crinkles, and the playful light twists into a glare. “Nasty.” 

“That’s how you sounded,” you say. “I only reacted accordingly.” Laughing, you kick your legs out over his lap and sprawl back out. He takes the guitar back into his hands. 

As much as you want to escape the mugginess, you’ll survive it for just a little while longer—if only with the force of an indulgent heart. The eternal moments are those you allow to linger.  

⚝⭒ 

Some things, you forget when you’re older. Maybe it’s time’s hand, eroding memories down and stuffing more in the longer you live to experience them. But also maybe because they’re the sort of things you can’t say in the adult world without a laugh in the face and a look from down their noses.  

This memory is one of those forgotten things. It’s moth-bitten and dusty, something you one day folded up in a moving box and decided to never revisit. 

You’d been down at the creek. Kai and you had spent so many summer days there. It wasn’t too far from home, just past the filbert trees and into the shallow neck of the backwoods, but there you were out of sight and free to get up to nothing good. It was a wonder your mom ever let you do it. Kai’s dad didn’t care too much where he went or what he did, but your mom dug her claws in deep. You like to think that she imagined you two would have each other, if anything ever happened. 

Usually, you’d be there holding your jeans up from the stream and Kai would be letting his jeans go dark with it. The bite of water was nice as it washed over warm skin. Fun was a simple thing to find, then. You dug your fingers into the mudbanks and tossed stones way too big to be throwing at each other, just because you two remembered how much the adults hated it when you did. Then, you’d drag tired limbs home avoiding sweetgum tree spikes that had fallen to the ground and dug splinters out from your feet.  

This day, you had been in the blackberry bushes. It was maybe late July or early August, and they’d gotten heavy on their branches. You’d waited until the smell of them, summer-warmed, was sweet and cloying in the air to pick them. With buckets in your hands, you plucked only the fattest berries from their bunches. Your fingers were stained a delightful purple and perhaps a bit thorn raw, but you didn’t mind much then. You plucked for hours, and it was dusk before you could catch it. Dinner was no doubt waiting for you back home. 

“There’s a bunch over here,” Kai had said. He reached a long boyish arm, still awkward and lanky with puberty, up high for ripe bush. You finished off picking before climbing around thick branches sticking out to take a peek. A bunch, there was. 

When you went to drop a handful of them into your bucket, Kai hissed. He’d been snagged by a vicious looking branch, those ones as thick as a finger with thorns to match and you’d warn each other tongue-in-cheek to watch out for that one. He’d worn those ridiculous shorts that day, the ones that looked half pants half shorts with how long and baggy they were, and the claws of the bush had jumped at the opportunity. At first the scrapes were white, but then red blood crawled out and down his leg.  

“Kai,” you said, some parts chiding and some parts just wondering how he’d managed that. You surveyed his leg for a bit, and then determined that he should wash his leg off in the stream. He walked there strong, but of course you noticed the hobble beneath his acting. When you squatted down into the dry grass and cupped water to wash off his leg, you laughed. 

“What?” he had said, holding the shorts up. You covered your laugh with a hand, but it erupted past your palm. You remember the glare on his face very well.  

You still laughed. “You’re stupid,” you had told him. 

“I didn’t see it,” he said. “I tripped over it because it was sticking out.” 

That time when you brought your hands to catch some water, there was a twinkle in its surface. You didn’t notice it for a second. The creek moved fast and you could see a lot of things in its reflection. When it lingered, that’s when your brows furrowed. It seemed to twirl, dancing around like alive over the stones. 

The sound of Kai’s voice remains with you. “Hey,” he had said, strong to call your attention but also wavered with uncertainty. 

When you looked up, there was silver dust dancing around you. 

It was fluffy and whorling, fine silver stardust. It’d moved weightless in the air, as though it barely existed. In the center of it were a few moths. They seemed to be made of sterling powder just as the dust was, and they glowed against dusk’s backdrop. If your memory serves you right, there had been a sweet hymn of coos from them. They beckoned you. Summer’s heat felt lighter, and so did your chest. You wondered where they had wanted you to go. 

Almost afraid that if you spoke they might have fluttered away, you whispered soft and low to Kai. “What is that?” He was stood frozen there, pant leg still scrunched up in his fist. Stardust glowed soft in his brown eyes while he took it all in, you remember. It wasn’t a scared frozen. You weren’t scared, either—rather, it was as if that lightness had found its way into the core of your being and brushed over it with mending hands. 

He whispered back, “I don’t know.” How could he have known? It was absurd. 

Those whisps had beckoned you, flowing toward the deeper woods. The soft moths, their murmuring brushing up against your ears, seemed to wait for you to follow. You remember a pull, soft tendrils wrapping themselves around your heart and the yearning it planted there.  

But there was also this reluctance, a bone-deep answering that had told you: No. You’re not ready. 

“Kai, I wanna go,” you told him. 

You didn’t even need to tell him twice. Berry buckets forgotten; the journey home was a stranger one. When your dad asked why you returned from berry picking emptier handed than you had left the house, Kai and you only shared a look. You pair kept that evening at the creek hidden so well that it became more forgotten than shared secret.  

⚝⭒ 

Once, you had been the type of girl that loved being around family. Some of your favorite days of your life were spent in this living room, T.V. roaring over bouncing conversation. Some of those nights ended in rosy cheeks and laughs, and some ended with words thrown angry like fireworks. You never knew which you’d be getting, but you endured the fear of not knowing because it was a simple love—the basic kind built with biology into you the moment your infant skin touched your mother’s. You endured it because eventually, sleep washed away the bad taste left in your mouth and you forgave them quick, sometimes quicker than you ought to, and things would go on as if it hadn’t even happened. You endured it because you could handle its burden, if only to feel the warmth you feel when it’s a good day.  

Kai was always there—his dad was hardly home, so he found family in yours. When you were younger, you’d been embarrassed he was there for caustic, spitted words and intimate fights. Now, you’re just grateful for his shoulder.  

So, yes. Once, you had loved being around your family. But things feel tenser now, nights spent all together less frequent and when they do happen, they’re tainted by a strange air. You think that this strangeness is new, but an awful worry also makes you think that it’d always been there, that you only feel it now because you’ve grown into your adult mind. A hollow ache stakes its claim in your chest, declaring that it won’t leave until you find that youthful ignorance and joy once more. You think that it might stay there forever. 

Bare feet bounding down the stairs, you make a rare appearance downstairs. The cupboard is only half open to make way for a snack raid before your mom’s voice cuts through the air. You know quickly just by the look on her face that you should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“Hey,” she says, gathering laundry into a basket. “You’ve been applying to jobs?” 

With an anxious belly, you tell her, “Yeah. A few. They’re not really, like, ideal, but I sent applications.” You don’t remember when it got hard to look into your mother’s eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to do so now.  

“Not ideal?” she says. “It’s not like you can be picky. Mcdonalds or wherever, I don’t care, you’re going to need to get a job if you’re staying here.” 

“I know. I applied,” you reiterate around a mumble. You close the cabinets, not so interested in a snack anymore. “I just... I don’t know, ma. I don’t want to do that for a living, going between those sorts of jobs.” 

Face hard and abrasive against the truth you bare, she does that awful taunting smile that makes you feel small. Stupid. “You’re not going to college, so that’s what it’s gonna be. You can’t sit up there and draw for a living. You’ve gotta get into the real world, get some real experience.”  

There’s a burst of hurt in your chest, dazzling and gnawing. She’s getting closer to saying how she really feels about your dreams out loud every day. Your face burns and so do your eyes, knot thick in your throat. “Yeah, okay. Got it,” you say, nodding. You’re at the front door before you even know it, slipping on shoes and fighting the greatest internal battle to will back tears. She’d use those against you, no doubt about it. “I’m going to Kai’s,” you throw over your shoulder.  

Whatever she barks back at you, you’re glad you don’t hear. Bells on some old Christmas decoration hung on the door that had yet to be taken down, even into summer, jingle and wash it away for you. 

Kai’s brows shoot up when he opens the door to your face crumpling. You’d done so well at damming it up, but the wall cracks and the water crashes through once you see him. If it were anybody else, you’d feel icky and attention seeking, but you’d held Kai to your chest through gut-wrenching sobs as much as he’s done it for you. Without question, he takes you into his arms, warm hand running up and down your back. The warm soothing is so familiar. You melt right into it.  

He keeps you there for a long moment. Then, his chest rumbles as he tells you, “Come on.” The walk through the AC to his bedroom is nice. Having a house like Kai’s to come to where it can just be you is nice, too. You step around the mess of clothes and scattered belongings on his floor like you have a muscle-memory roadmap of his room. Boxsprings creak and hard mattress welcome you back home. His room is dark as always, a night-dweller you call him. The array of peeling band posters plastered over walls you two had painted blue some years ago, when it’d been his favorite color, don’t help to lighten it up. He keeps a low lamplight on.  

“She never listens to me,” you say, crying gone to occasional sniffles from your chest. You rest your cheek on your bent knee. 

“I know,” he says. “But at least she cares about you. Pays attention to you.” His voice is soft and deep and right next to you. Always right next to you, there for you even when you might not appreciate it as you should.  

His dad cares too little what he does, and yours care too much. The grass is always greener on the other side, you know it. Still, you hold a fantasy where you’re able to do teenager stuff. Where you’d allow yourself to do bad things, because you weren’t so intent on painting yourself with their will. You two hold eyes for a long moment, your twinkling ones caught in that steady brown. “I just want to get away. Be my own person.” Your words are muffled in the softness of your skin. 

“You had the chance to do it,” Kai says, hand playing with your fingers. “But you didn’t.” 

Holding your legs closer, you lick your lips. What do you say to that? Would it ever be the time to tell him that you did it because you think that your soul is pathetically intertwined with his, and that it might snuff your lifeforce out to even try pursuing life without him? Without this? How do you tell him that you’re so frozen and unwilling to pursue any sort of future because it means accepting that this chapter is over? You clutch childhood to your chest like a wild animal guarding scarce food; you refuse. You refuse to acknowledge its end.  

“Kai,” is all you say, trembled and thick. It’s not just your mother’s words that dig at you and tear to shreds the last bits of what dreaming you had left in you, but so many other reality checks too. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard those sorts of words, urging you forward. You can only dig your heel into the ground for so long before you’re swept away in time’s ruthless, endless moving.  

He understands. Lifting your face with warm fingers against your cheeks, he says, “Hey. How about we go get ice cream, or something?” 

Ice cream does sound nice. “Dairy Queen?” 

Smirk tugged over his mouth, he says, “Yes, Dairy Queen. A blizzard. C’mon, let’s go.” Sliding off the bed, he offers you an urging hand up. 

But you falter. “I don’t know if we can. She’s mad at me. I don’t think she’ll let me go.” 

“Let you go?” he says, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t have to let you go. You’re an adult now, you go if you want to.” He offers his hand to you again. 

It’s so him, freely going wherever he ordain it. The bullheadedness is very him, as well. Always the devil on your shoulder, he was the root of any rebellious thing you’ve ever done. He could never understand your apprehension, or why getting in trouble was such an awful thing to you. “I have to ask to get money.” 

Brows pinching, he says, “You think I’m not gonna pay for you? You don’t need them to give you money, I’ll pay. I’ll take care of it.” He drags you up from the bed this time. “Live a little. Do you want to go?” 

It was never the punishments or the getting in trouble that you were scared of, though. Disappointment was a scarier word than grounded. Sneaking out and those sorts of things, it’s not like you had angel wings at your back and never considered them. It’s that you are deeply, utterly terrified of changing how they look at you. You begin to tell him, “I do, but—” 

He cuts you off, adamant. “Then do it. Let’s go. If you want to go, then go,” he says. “At some point, your life needs to become your own. It’s not sneaking out when you’re graduated and eighteen years old, it’s going wherever the hell you want. You’ve... You’re gonna end up stuck here, in this town, forever. You don’t deserve that.” 

That sounds like both the best and the worst thing you’ve ever heard. You take his hand.  

⚝⭒ 

Your frozen fingers nurse your ice cream. The cup itself is cold, but the Dairy Queen on your side of town is always thirty degrees below what it should be. It’d always been that way. Even way back when you two couldn’t drive, you’d get dropped off here to escape the melting weather and get a frozen treat with a handful of dollars. Each time, you’d start off sagging with the relief of summer’s weight off your shoulders and left the place shivering and sugar-mouthed.  

It’s really only you two in here. You crinkle your nose when he takes a spoonful. “Out of all the flavors...” 

Unbothered and no doubt expecting you to say it, he offers you a flat, “You get your flavor, I get mine.” He makes a point of taking an extra-long bite. His lips linger around the red plastic of the spoon and his brows rest high in silent challenge.  

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Hmm. Well. I just have a hard time believing that Oreo... or, like, brownie fudge, is right there, and you actually want M&M. I don’t get how M&M your favorite.” A familiar banter falls over your tongues. Your heart buzzes and your cheeks radiate. This is the first you’ve done this all summer, and it’ll be weaning off into fall soon. Any other summer, you would’ve been here on all the hottest days. You hate that Kai’s been so busy with his music; you hate that you can hear the resounding ticks of the clock counting down your time. You also hate that the stubborn depths of you still believe that if you freeze yourself here in stasis that the world will relent and stop along with you. 

You look over the sharp lines of Kai’s jawline as it feathers with his chewing, and the broadness of his shoulders where his jacket stretches around it, and the starkness of his collarbones against his chest and the bobbing of his adam’s apple when he swallows. No, time doesn’t stop. Some of him remains the same, though. In it, you see the boy that had love creeping up on you so long ago, with all its aching and all its hope. That freckle on the column of his neck, the bump in his nose leading down to the button tip that beckons your lips to steal a quick kiss.  

And, those lips. They’re as soft as ever around the discontented grimace he pulls. “M&M isn’t my favorite.” 

With a pursed mouth and patronizing brows arched over your eyes, you say, “Oh, huh. That’s funny, because if my memory serves me right, it’s the only flavor you’ve ordered for the past... six years.”  

Kai husks a laugh at that. “That’s because they haven’t had my favorite for years,” he tells you, scooping up the final bit and then pushing it off to the side. “It was a blizzard of the month that they discontinued. The blackberry cheesecake one. I made peace with it, though. It lives on in my heart.” He grins, arms crossed over his chest and his back settled into the booth seat to let you finish your cup.  

“Blackberry cheesecake,” you say, voice made taunting. Your nod is slow and taunting, too. “Well, forget M&Ms.Why would blackberry cheesecake be your favorite? Ever?” 

His face falters, a moment where something flows over his eyes as if reliving a memory in a few short seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It just is.” 

You roll your eyes. “Whatever,” you laugh. “Maybe my palate is unrefined.” Imagining the tarte fruit in purple swirls of ice cream, you’re taken back to a humid July day and the scent of churned mud.  

The strange memory unfolds itself quick. As if it were waiting for you to find wherever it’d hidden itself away. With a sharp gasp, you say, “Oh my god, Kai. Do you remember that one day? That weird stuff we saw down at the creek?” 

He nods. “Yeah. I was just thinking of that the other day, actually...” 

Less interested in finishing your cup now, you let the spoon rest. “What?” you say, the word peaking in the middle. That day hadn’t crossed your mind once since it’d happened. “How weird is that?” 

Scoffing a laugh, he says, “Weird, yeah. Just as strange as two kids high on fermented berries.” 

That draws a breathy laugh from you. “Is that what you think it was?” you ask him with knitted brows. The berries had been fresh, and you two had popped plenty into your mouth. But no doubt, you’d have spat them right back out if they were that ripe. “I mean, we saw the same thing.” 

“It happens to animals all the time. Squirrells, and stuff.” He lends you a gallic shrug. “We just freaked ourselves out. Like that one time you said you saw the shape of something in the dark and we freaked out. And it was clothes.”  

Well, hallucinating, in tandem, a glowing mist because you two by chance ate fermented berries is a very long shot. However nonchalant he acts about it, he seems to have thought long and hard about it. Enough to reason it away with some far cry explanation. Would you have even been able to get drunk off a handful of fermented berries? And, god, you’re really sure that you’d have noticed. That taste isn’t really one you just don’t notice.  

Whatever. Maybe you were just drunk idiots. That’s a lot easier to swallow, anyway. 

“Okay, but you saw that. Did it not look sinister?” you say. With your spoon back in your hand, you punctuate the sentence pointing it at him. “You freaked out with me, too.”  

An unsatisfied scowl on his lips, he steals a spoonful of your dessert. You don’t even swat him away—your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

Catching sight of who’s calling, you share a long look with Kai. It’s funny, how fast those three white letters scramble you up. When you hesitate to answer, Kai tells you, “Answer.” 

You hope she can’t tell you’re not at Kai’s by the refrigerators’ dull buzzing. It’s an effort to tussle that invasive worry back. You’re at Dairy Queen. Getting ice cream with the boy she’s known since childhood. She should clutch her hands and thank the sky that you’re here, not out in some nasty frat house like you could be. You thumb the green button. 

Her voice comes through the speaker crackled and asking you to run over to do a quick dish load. For a heartbeat you consider telling her that you will and then start rushing home. Instead, you fork out the truth through resistant lips. 

The hangup tone sits heavy on the air between you and Kai. Having listened to the whole thing on speaker, he says, “What was so hard about that? The world didn’t end, did it?” 

The plush of your lip takes a hard gnawing. No, it hadn’t. “I know she’s not going to get mad at me for just going here,” you say as you rest your elbows onto the table. “It’s that they’re supporting me right now. I still live under their roof. The more I go around and insist I can do whatever I want, they’ll start reminding me of it.” 

His face drawn, he lets his mouth twitch to one side. “Yeah,” he muses. “I never thought yours would be the type to kick you out.” 

Kai’s dad had started threating him with getting kicked out years ago, when he first started telling him that he wanted to do music. How many times had he let reluctant tears flow into your shoulder over it? Because music wasn’t a real job? Back then, you’d whispered in his ears that he’d become everything he’d dreamed of and more as your fingers carded through shaggy locks of hair.  

���I don’t know,” you say, humming it out noncommittally. “Is your dad still... y’know?” 

Nodding slowly, his eyes tell. “Yeah. Always.” 

“Because you’re taking the band seriously, now?” you ask.  

“Probably. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about it. If I’m just his goddamn problem, I’ll give him what he wants soon enough.” His eyes blaze with promise of it.  

It takes a bit out of you to not wince. Kai living anywhere but in the house across from yours is wrong. “I don’t think he necessarily wants that, Kai...” You take his hand in your icy ones, the urge to reach out to him thinly veiled under the guise of searching out warmth. He’d always run warmer than you—your personal heater. “It’s probably because he can see that you’re doing it for real. Not just saying it anymore.” 

“Yeah, well,” he spits, “I can’t fucking wait to see what he’ll say to me when I make it. That piece of shit, though, he wouldn’t even care. It’s not like he ever gave a shit about me enough for it to matter.” 

But, it matters to you, you want to tell him. You understand his need to throw it all in his face. Though. “Is that one label going to sign you? The one you were talking about?” 

His tongue darts out to wet dry lips. “They haven’t yet. I don’t know. But I don’t need that money to get out of here, I’ve been working on it.” 

“They will,” you say. “But, where would you go? Not too far?” You try and keep it light and playful, even as your heart aches. 

“Come with me,” he says. It’s painfully blunt, as if it were that simple. “Let’s go get and apartment; you and me.” 

“Kai...” you say. “You don’t have to drag me along because you feel bad.” 

The idea doesn’t sound half bad, though.  

“What?” His face tightens, as if somewhere under the surface your words had scraped somewhere tender. “You don’t have to stay here forever. Please. I want... I want you to come with me. You wouldn’t have to even tell them; just bring all your stuff and go together. We could do it together. Like we said we would.”  

“We were like, five. Everybody tries to pretend running away at five,” you deadpan. It’s a washy attempt at lightening things back up. 

Living with him, moving out together, should feel like everything you’ve ever wanted. And, maybe it is. But, he’s not asking you to live with him the way you want him to. Not in the way that your aching heart wishes he would.  

Kai doesn’t share the laugh you give him. “Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning into the table.  

Perhaps you should consider the potent disappointment he’s terribly masking with a face of indifference, though. 

⚝⭒ 

Slowly, the knots in your belly have worked themselves out. When Kai had dropped you off, they’d been so awful that you felt borderline sick. You sat the whole ride there in his old beat-up truck picking at your nails and rambling to him. He listened to you the whole time. And then when it was time to walk in, it had least felt a little easier to do so with his eyes on you, watching to make sure you made it in safely. 

You’d gotten a job. It’s not too bad, folding clothes out on display. It would be nice if they kept the lights a bit brighter, but you’ll get used it eventually, you hope. 

Most of your coworkers are around your age, but the one showing you the ropes... your heart had fluttered. 

“You’ll get it,” Yeonjun says. The smile you find on his lips once he straightens up from placing product on a display is smooth and smug. Sleek strands of black hair fall over his eyes. You fluster under his gaze.  

With arms crossed over your chest you say, “Yeah, probably.” You reach into the cardboard box for stock to practice on. 

“Where’d you work before this?” he asks, leaning back into a wall to watch you. Suddenly, you make sloppier work of your folding. “Your first retail job?” 

Some obnoxious pop song falls down from the speakers over the store. Nobody’s in here yet, thankfully; you’ve got some time to try and get a handle on everything. “No, this is my first job. I was so nervous walking in.” 

Interest catches in his eyes. It encourages that smooth smile on his lips further. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you the reins.” 

Your mind stalls. The suggestive, sly flicker to it—are you looking too much into it? Maybe that’s just how guys like Yeonjun act. It’s hard to pretend that you don’t see how he’s looking at you, though. It has your belly twisted up in fluttery knots. It’s not like you hadn’t had your share of his type. But, for some reason you’d rather not address, he’s got your heart thumping in your chest. 

He laughs at your fifth attempt to fold up the shirt. When he takes it from you to help, he smells of musk and vetiver. “You going to college near here?” he continues.  

“Nah, just doing this, I guess,” you answer, watching him fold it up to try and soak it up.  

“Really? Why not?” he hums, crossing his arms about his chest. “You seem like a smart girl.” 

Buffering, your blood buzzes in your veins and your cheeks burn. “Dunno. Not really sure what to do. Are you in college?” 

“Nah. I’m trying to figure things out, too.” 

The both of you pop your heads up when the bell rings to announce the arrival of a customer.  

“Yeah,” you say, eyeing him. He’s a few years older than you, no doubt, and yet his life hasn’t fallen apart because he’s not done anything grand yet.  

Time’s hand around your neck loosens. Just a little bit.  

⚝⭒ 

You sit crisscrossed on top of Kai’s bedsheets. He’d thrown the windows open because the AC died, but it’s no help. The hot air wafting about the room sits heavy on your skin. You’d dressed in as little material as possible to let it breathe, bare thighs clad in a pair of loose shorts and a thin tank top, but it’s still miserable. 

Perhaps you two should be going over to yours, but you haven’t had time alone with him for a few weeks now. You hate this busier life, where you struggle to make room for this. 

Your new job isn’t so awful, though. Especially with Yeonjun there. A bout of nerves flows up through your stomach. That reminds you. 

Sitting up a bit straighter, you consider not doing it. In fact, you really shouldn’t. But your mouth moves before you can put a stopper on it. 

“Hey, Kai,” you say. The thickness in your throat makes you believe that your heart’s jumped up into it, caught. God, what are you doing? The unsure waver in your words has you regretting. 

His eyes flicker up to yours. He hums out a, “Huh?” 

No, this is wrong. You mess with the thin cotton strap of your tank top where it’d slipped down. “Never mind,” you tell him, trying to shrug it off.  

That piques his interest. “No, what?” His brow pinches.  

You lick your lips and shake your head. “Nothing, never mind. Really.” 

His eyes search you from where he sits up against the wall. “Tell me,” he demands. 

Really, you shouldn’t have said it in the first place. It was a ridiculous idea. But now you know he’s not going to let it go. And, ridiculously, you say it. “I was just... wondering,” you say, blood roaring. "Well, Yeonjun wants me to come over to his place this weekend, and... I’ve never...” Sucking in a quick breath, you just spit it out to get it over with, “Would you be my first kiss, Kai?” 

Insects buzz outside as he looks at you, frozen in spot. You reject the urge to dart away or throw up. You’re honestly just as shaken as him. But really, who else could you trust with something like that? You don’t want Yeonjun to be disappointed if he kisses you, or to seem inexperienced to him. 

And, perhaps, the hopelessly in love part of you hopes to at least feel his lips on yours at least once. If you’re going to be alone forever in your longing, you just wish that you can have this. 

“What?” Kai says. He looks rattled.  

Of course, he’s shocked. You shift. “Forget I said that,” you tell him, unable to meet his gaze.  

String-roughened fingers wrap around your upper arm. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, voice strained and face less shock-fallen and more darkened. “But... I mean, you want me to teach you to kiss for some other guy.” He spits out the last bit as if bitter in his mouth.  

“You don’t have to do it,” you say. “I just... thought that I might ask you to do it. I don’t know, I’m sorry I said it. I’ll just wing it or something.” His room’s grown ten degrees hotter, if that was possible. Especially where you feel his eyes on your face.  

Almost imperceptibly, his hand tightens around you. He swallows hard. “You want to learn how to kiss?” he says. “Fine. I’ll teach you.” 

In a heart-stopping moment, your eyes snap to his. Brown and familiar, they hold you with an intensity that turns your limbs into jelly. The air is stifling. “What... do I do?” you ask when the silence becomes too heavy.  

A muscle feathers in his jaw, reflected in the low light of his room. It’s quick and so easy to miss, but it tells you everything you need to know about how this is making him feel. How much disbelief he’s in. “Come here,” he says, stilted around the absolute absurdity of it. He pats on his lap. 

You make a hesitant crawl across the bed toward him. It seems as though your elbows might buckle beneath your weight, but you make it despite the odds. A fog settles over your brain when you rest your hands on his shoulders and bring your legs to straddle his lap. 

But you shove it back; you want to live and breathe every last second of this. No matter how unbelievable or blistering it is.  

Breaths fan out over your face. It’s seizing your mind like undiluted liquor. “Where do I put my hands?” you ask him. It’s breathless, the air stolen right from your lungs though your mouths haven’t even touched.  

“There is fine,” he says. His words sound breathless, too. The weight of his touch on you as he runs his own up to support your back is unsure. “And then...” he says. It falls out on your mouth slowly, and then he’s taking your lips onto his. 

The walls melt away, sound does too. All that is real is the taste of his lips and how they move against you. Your lips start tentative, but you try his mouth movements yourself. It feels like a timid dance—it feels like deep, deep down, finally everything is right. That mist, thick and blinding, falls back over you. 

Something changes. Something in it, where you two meet, changes. He becomes hungry. Softly locked lips turn biting and nipping, shaky breaths exhaled slow through your nose. His hands on your back become surer, and one even ventures off to grab your chin. The other holds you to his chest, melded together despite the intense smoke and flame rolling off your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating a mess there. 

Reluctance paints you both when you pull back. You’re panting deep drinks of air. It’s hard to think; your mind’s run off and sits just out of reach. Licking your messy lips, stained with illicitness, you can only manage to brush your fingers against it to form words. “How... was that?” you say, searching his eyes. You find his pupils blown so wide that they consume the warm brown. You’re ready to jump out of your skin with that look pointed at you.  

Kai doesn’t answer, though. He slams your mouths back together as if starved by just the brief moment you’d parted for air. Nips on your bottom lip and emboldened hands—he moves like roaring water through a dam. A dam that he’d worked hard to fortify, and yet, at a crack it’s all falling down. Fingertips digging through the fabric of your shorts down to your soft hips, his chest rumbles. You feel it reflected in your core, electricity charging there and shooting up your spine and down your thighs. 

You kiss him for all the times you wish you would’ve, but didn’t. The slight rolls of your hips down onto him come easy. You love how it has him making a sound into your mouth and taking the fat beneath his fingers harder into his hands. He helps you. 

He drops his head into your neck. Your head swims for air and he has you shuddering with just the brushing of his nose against the column of your neck. The walls of his room spin around you. “Kai,” you whine, every bit of friction his jeans provide, even clothed as you are, just enough to rile you but not to give you what you need. 

“God,” he growls, thumbs hooking under your waistband. “You always fucking run around dressed in nothing,” he says, letting his fingers linger like a suggestion of undressing you. “Did you do it on purpose? Expect to make me crazy, knowing I couldn’t touch you?” 

And, in those words, it seems that he steals every last bit of breath from you. How often had you gone braless or worn something like this around him? Laid here, in his bed, like that? 

Grown tired of your fruitless grinding, he brings a hand down to support your lower back and says, “Turn around.” 

Though you explode with the prospect of what he might be intending to do or what’s next, if you’re really going to do this, you do so in a flash of eager limbs. His chest is solid against your back, you melt against the feeling of it. He’d become such a man lately, filled out, and you watched it happen. It was hard for your eyes not to catch on muscle-corded forearms while he picked at strings or to not appreciate the timbred rumble of his voice when you’d feel it come from his chest. How could it not do things to you? Now, he’s dragging your shorts down your legs and you’re in disbelief.  

“Fuck,” he breaths out. His fingers find your panties soaked through. “So, you’re the type to get dripping wet.” 

An embarrassed blush decorates your cheeks. Kai drags his index finger in circles around your clit through the fabric as if enamored with how much of a mess you’d made of it. Your hips twitch every time he rolls right over it. It’s strange how he��s got your body acting on its own volition with his touches. Even stranger that it’s your best friend doing it. “Sorry,” you tell him, wavering.  

He continues those terribly slow circles. “Sorry?” he says, chin on your shoulder. He’s got you wrapped up in him, with nowhere to go but to melt back into him and let his fingers work. Free hand on one of your inner thighs digging divots into the plushness there to hold it still, he tells you, “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s hot as fuck. You’re so excited for me to touch you, huh?” 

The words wreak havoc on you, feeding the flame that has your belly twisted up tight and the ignition point between your thighs pounding. To hear them coming from him, reserved Kai, has you digging your fingers into his forearm to prove that it’s real. You’d never have imagined him being so... filthy. You imagine him behind falsely nonchalant eyes, devouring you with a perverted mind all the times you’d spent innocently sitting together in this room.  

Your cheeks squish beneath his fingers as he takes your face and turns it to him. He wants to make sure you’re look at him as he asks you, “Do you want me to finger you?” 

Like a record, your brain skips. Between the blunt, lewd question and his hand on you, it’s in overload. How could ask something like that so simply? Stunned as you are, of course you want him to. You want him to do anything to you. You nod.  

Every last nerve and neuron in your system, just below the skin, cry out when his fingers slow down to nothing. “Hmm?” he says, ignoring the chasing of your hips and the opening of your thighs to invite him into paying your poor pussy the attention he’d ripped from it. He wants to hear you say it.  

About ten minutes ago, you lost your mind. It does not return to you now. “I want you to,” you say, chest beating in tandem with your cunt. 

“You want me to, right? Not some dumbass you met a week ago, huh?” he says. “Because you know that this is what it’s meant to be. Me, doing these things to you. Not some twenty-five-year-old piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you, baby. Understand?” 

His fingers slider under your panties. Dumb brained and cognition gone muddled, you nod. All you can really think about is the moment his fingers slide over you. Fire licks up your lower belly and your insides as he brushes calloused finger tips finally right against your clit. 

Puffed breaths of a scoff raise goosebumps over your skin. “Teach you to kiss so that you can go over there and get his hands on you,” he says, middle two fingertips prodding at your entrance. “As if you were ever anybody’s but mine. You’d come crawling back to me, baby, because it was always meant to be us. He could never satisfy you.” 

His words might alarm you or have you asking questions if he hadn’t pushed his fingers into you and begun curling them with strong, pointed presses, pulling soft mewls and hums from you until he finds a spot that twists up your insides. Even through the palm you press over your mouth, your moans come out more like wavering grunts and croaks. Your thighs quiver and twitch, threatening to snap closed against your own will with each. Only your feet stay planted to the mattress. Like a cone of soft serve under the sun’s blistering attention, you melt down him. Just his frame keeps you upright. 

“Right there, huh?” he says. The smirk on his mouth filters his words into something taunting. “That’s where you like it.” It’s like he’s learning your body step by step, fulfilling all the questions he’d been forced to only guess at before this.  

“Uh-huh.” It comes out whiny and cracks in the middle, but you can’t find even an ounce of you to care right now. If this moment had been a long spiral, a fall from grace, down into a dark pit of forgotten inhibitions, you’ve just hit the bottom. Cheeks blazing cherry blossom pink and with your fingers curling into his pant leg, you don’t doubt that you are a picturesque mess. The kind of mess that’s beautiful because it’s dirty. Your teeth are not gentle on your plush bottom lip. It stings, tugged back and bitten and still a bit swollen with kisses. Perhaps you taste the tang of metal on it, but you pay it no mind. 

Kai redoubles his efforts. Now that he knows exactly how to play you, he’s fucking you on his fingers without mercy. The sounds coming from your cunt were wet, but now they’re different— nasty squelching. The only noises coupling with your pathetic keening. Forget anchoring yourself on his thigh, forget muffling your sounds. Instead, your hands fly to encircle his flexing forearm. Under your nails, angry red crescents dig into the muscle there. What had been a languid, building pleasure suddenly becomes everything. Your breaths run away from you, and you chase them frantically. Deep down in your core, the muscles spasm and rage against his fingers. “H—oh god,” you groan. Even the muscles in your thighs and tummy tighten up. 

“So whiny...” Kai mumbles, voice taut with the effort of eroding you down into pure, blinding-white pleasure. 

And then, in a swoop of mercy, your belly tightens. You hover here, on the precipice of something so consuming and voracious that your muscles and bones reject it, and yet your heart sings. Your eyes and cheeks and lungs and belly burn, the flame charring the edges of you in a beckon. You answer its call. Kai doesn’t mind the snapping of your legs shut around his arm, nor does your bucking or shaking deter him. He just holds you through it, arm like a metal bar around your waist. He’s everywhere, in this moment—the smell of him, leather and utterly familiar, his mouth dusting hot kisses over your skin, his fingers guiding you through orgasm. Where you’d gone silent in the initial crash of it, you devolve into mewls and grunts as you come down.  

He holds you even as you slump against him boneless. Afterglow simmers in your veins and has your brain all lethargic and lazy. Neither of you speak for a while, your pulse thumping a rhythm. His breaths rise and fall against you; it grounds you in this moment where you feel all spacey and gone. You become aware again of how disgustingly sweltering it is in his room, your skin sheened. 

That brainless bliss only lasts you for so long, though. When rational mind returns to you, no matter how you wish it wouldn’t, you’re hit in the chest with regret so hard it knocks the wind out of you. 

How will anything ever be the same after what you’d just done? Stricken still by the thought, you barely register him pulling his fingers out of you. After all your worrying about making sure no wedge comes between you two, look what you’ve gone and done. No; nothing ever will be the same again.  

⚝⭒ 

A couple of weeks ago, you ruined the one friendship you were supposed to have forever. It presses down heavy one you while you sit sprawled out on Yeonjun’s couch, his arm around your shoulder. His phone casts a glow over his features with all the lights out. 

It doesn’t smell like home. He, pressed against your side, doesn’t smell like home.  

Some stupid movie that he’d picked out, yet somehow you’ve ended up the only one still watching it, weaves a hum into the quiet of his apartment. Tangy hurt wells up in your throat. Even the moments when you and Kai would sit in mutual silence on your phones never felt like this. This is different.  

You haven’t seen Kai since that night. He’s been busy getting ready to move out, and you’ve been here most days. How fast all of it had changed. You wish you’d feel whiplashed, left empty, by the drifting that you’d been so terrified of. But you don’t. It’s just been you, locked on land, watching him being taken away by the ocean’s tide with no way to change its course. You tried and screamed to call him back, but now your voice has gone hoarse.  

And instead of watching him go, you choose to look elsewhere. It’s all you can do to protect yourself from the hurt. 

“Hey,” Yeonjun says, finally addressing you rather than whoever’s he’s got in his phone. “Did you bring anything to change into?”  

“I brought stuff to sleep in,” you say, eyeing him. You know that’s not why he’s asking. If it came down to it, you could just steal something from him and pull it on. He means going out clothes. Your jaw tightens. “But nothing nice. Why?” 

He stretches his arms behind his head in a flaunt of long arms and tanned muscle. Hours spent at the gym lent him those; you appreciate the look of it with a watering mouth. Kai had earned his build by hours spent outside with your dad, because his own could care less, helping him fix up cars and vehicles of all ridiculous sorts. You remember when Kai had first gotten his truck—junk on wheels, honestly—he’d spent so much of summer out there getting it running. And, well... the sun-kissed bronze of his skin and frame that came with it, you had no qualms with. 

But those memories only sit heavy in your chest as you’re sat here beside Yeonjun. You banish them elsewhere; you need to let him drift off. If you can’t have each other, and your feelings won’t permit just being friends, then you have to. You want him to do amazing things, and you fear that it’s your presence in his life that will interrupt that. As much as your feelings are real, they are selfish. You, your unsure direction and all your dead weight, should let him go. Because you love him. 

“The guys want to come over,” he tells you, pushing off from the couch. “You should probably into change into something less showy.” 

Less showy. Your mouth drops into a scoff of disbelief, looking down. A pair of shorts and a shirt, showy? You have to laugh, or else you’ll succumb to the strange embarrassment crawling at the back of your skull. What’s he trying to say? Is that what he thinks of you? “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say, face tilted up to him in a twist of distaste. “I’m wearing something comfy.” 

He shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his black sweats. “Don’t want to give them the wrong idea about you, that’s all, baby. They’re guys; I just want to protect you.” 

“No,” you say, the word falling out in a barked laugh. “Why would you even be bringing over dudes that you think will look at me like that? Why are you even friends with people that you think are gonna make moves on your girlfriend?” He holds a hand out to you, but your hands stay right where they are: crossed solidly over your chest. 

Throwing that hand up in audacious exasperation, he gives you a look that makes you feel small and petulant—like you’re throwing an overblown fit. And, maybe you are. You should probably just do it; him seeing you as some overbearing or high maintenance girl has that embarrassment flaring like wildfire that’s found dry brush. “C’mon, baby,” he says, a lazy smile on his mouth that gets under your skin. “Let’s just have an easy night. Don’t make it a big deal.” 

Let’s just have an easy night. As if you’re the one ruining the night. Something snarky tries to seize your tongue, but you hold it down. “I thought it would be just us. We wanted to watch the movie together, Yeonjun. Can’t you wait to hang out with your friends? Let’s enjoy our time together; you’ve got your shift tomorrow.” 

“My fucking god,” he groans, running a hand through his hair furiously. “You’re needy, you know that? The neediest I’ve ever had to put up with. I don’t put up with needy, baby. Can’t you just chill out a little? My last didn’t mind when I’d have friends over.” 

Your eyes burn. Your cheeks burn. He’d been with plenty of other girls before you; that, you’re well aware of. It’s been a corrosive source of self-doubt for you. You don’t want that title: the neediest he’s ever had. Don’t want him to think of you as some prude that won’t let him have fun. Just... hearing him bring up the other girls he’d been with before you stings and leaves welts no different from a slap in the face. Feelings of inadequacy shackle you and have you saying, “Fine. I’m gonna borrow some of your clothes.” 

Heavy resentment blooms on your skin where he bends down and presses kisses to your cheek, and then mouth, and then down your neck. “Thank you, baby.” 

And, where those ugly, wilted flowers of it bloom, you hear echoes of something. Something that tells you that Kai wouldn’t treat you like this. But you’ve made your bed, decided to do it yourself, and now you’ve got to lay on it. 

⚝⭒ 

The frat parties are the worst kind of social outing that Yeonjun insists upon. The smaller kinds, more intimate gathering with just his closer friends, you tolerate much easier. You’re not fond of the circles he chooses. Breathing in thick, smoked-out air surrounded by alcohol-coated breaths is not your type of fun night. Somehow, you end up doing that more than date nights. But that’s better than being here. The base rumbles up through your feet and makes your stomach sick, and it reeks of grinding bodies and body odor, and condensation coats your fingers from the red solo cup as full as when you’d first gotten it. 

But, still, you come along. Not every time, but when you don’t, you lay in his bed sickening yourself with images of what he might be doing here. How pathetic is it to attend parties with your boyfriend because you fear that otherwise, he might stick his tongue down the throats of other girls? 

You’re looking for him right now, awkward and left alone. He’d promised to stick around; you had begged him to. That was pathetic, too. You know that you put up with too much. If he loved you, or honestly even liked you, you two would be in the thick of the throngs dancing or off somewhere talking with others. Together. The frantic skimming and weeding of your eyes through the blur of faces is not right. That’s not how he should make you feel. It’s not how Kai would make you feel. 

Well, Kai would never have you here in the first place. 

Venturing out from your little corner, you sift between the bodies of people have a hell of a lot better time than you. Drunken, some you bounce off of like bumper carts. You press your palm over the round face of your cup to spare the floor from spillage threatening to pour over the lip. It’s not like a splash from yours would matter much, though. The linoleum has already been made a fetor mess of dirt off shoes and the sticky sugar of liquor. Your shoes peel from it as you walk. God, what would your parents think of you being here? 

You peek around corners and eye big groups. He’s not in the kitchen when you look there, either. Your stomach feels sick in a knowing way—a gut feeling that doesn’t justify anger or tears just yet, but you know. Right in the center of your chest, you know. 

It’s in some room that you find him. Sat on the floor along with a few faces you don’t know, he pulls from his bottle. And on his shoulder, he lets a girl with shining curls and pink cheeks rest her head. At your busting in on the intimate gathering, Yeonjun’s eyes slide to you. Recognition flashes over them and wars with bleary drunkenness. 

“Hey, baby,” he says. Their gazes all fall on you, but you can hardly see them through blurry eyes. 

The girl lifts her head from his shoulder. She’d caught the memo. 

“I think I’m gonna go.” You make it sound resigned, try to not let them see your shame, but your voice betrays you and crackles. Maybe it’s better to pretend it doesn’t feel like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach and left to reel against the force, but you can’t. You’re nowhere near shocked, nowhere near blindsided, but still you hurt. 

He follows you down the hall. “What’s your problem?” he says, the few, plain words mending and waving into a slurring. 

You’ve got one goal: get to the front door, away from the shitty music and him. His words, sharpened, fall off your skin despite his efforts. What good would fighting do you, anyway? It was always going to end up this way. This is just who he is, and he doesn’t give two shits enough about you to want to change that. 

“Baby, seriously? That made you this mad? I didn’t even fucking do anything. Stop being insecure,” he says. At the gritting of your teeth, he sees an opportunity and pounces on it. “You don’t need to be jealous. I don’t do jealous shit. We can dance, or something. Shit, I don’t know what you want! Just stop throwing a fit.” 

Didn’t do anything? You have to laugh. Maybe you didn’t walk in on him fucking someone else, but that’s not what this is about. Not even a little bit. You’ve checked out, and the fact that he thinks he can make you believe that it’s your fault this time only drives the killing stake in harder. 

Maybe you’re bitter. It claws at your insides—turns your face hot and screams in your face that you’ve been used. But beside it sits a sadness. Not the slow kind, but the quick sadness of hurt. Why hadn’t you been good enough for him to love you? To like you? You’d left behind Kai and rested your new life on Yeonjun’s shoulders. You’d wanted so badly for his approval, or for him to want you. You did your best to try and make this work out because you needed it to. You needed so desperately proof that you could fall in love with somebody else. But your best was not what Yeonjun was interested in.  

Pins and needles prick your skin as you step outside, like jumping into an ice bath. It shocks you out of dizziness. Words surge up and out in a flash flood like hard reality. You spin on him. “Jealous?” you say, choking out a scathing laugh. “The last thing I’d ever let myself suffer over you is jealousy. Get over yourself. I’m going, stay here if you want. I don’t care.” 

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” he says. The flickering yellow of the porchlight paints his features. The shadow of something fluttering around it cuts dark spots in the light, and then a small little moth comes down and jumps around in his face. He waves it off. “Gonna have bitch boy come pick you up? You can’t leech off him forever; he’s gonna get sick of picking up another man’s girlfriend.” It seems like you walking in on that had sobered him up, but his breath still curls out onto your face with the reek of alcohol. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be. Do you not trust me?”  

“You are such a piece of shit,” you grit out. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Ever. I don’t know how I let this go on for so long.” You don’t like him having Kai in his mouth, don’t like him trying to act like you’re conflating things, and especially don’t like that face he’s making. As if you’re acting crazy and overblown. “No, I don’t trust you. You didn’t fuck her, but come on, Yeonjun. Seriously? You think I’m stupid, and I’m sick of it. You thought this would be easy because I didn’t have the experience you have, but I’m sorry. I don’t like being walked over.” 

“If you’re gonna be so goddamn jealous, then maybe we aren’t gonna work,” he says. 

That moth, floating light in the air, is right back in his face. Yeonjun takes two hands and smashes it between a clap of his hands. He shakes its flattened, broken body off his hand. Looking down at it laying there on top of dirt-caked concrete, you get this... feeling. A tickling around your person.  

“See if I care,” you snap, throat aching against the onslaught of emotion and held back tears.  

⚝⭒ 

Rivulets of raindrops dilute the tears on your cheeks. Your hair plasters to your face and your clothes to your body.  

For a week, you’d went about it all as if it hadn’t happened. And then you came here.  

It’d not been this rainy when you first got down to the creek—just a gentle trickle, really. You hadn’t been crying then, either. But, watching the water work at babbling over stone, you let yourself feel it. Here, where you’d had so many good memories. You’ve gone and tainted it, now. But for whatever reason, you’d just wanted to be here. Arms curled around yourself and fingers digging into drenched sleeves, you don’t wipe away the tears or cover the sounds of your crying. You let the stream hear it; it’ll sweep it right up and down the way. Somewhere far off, where you don’t have to feel it anymore. 

You realize that, usually, you’d be over at Kai’s right now. The fact that his room was not the first place you thought you could go to anymore is a punch to the gut. You drop your face into your hands and cry harder. Really, you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. Thinking of sad things—putting your hurt under the microscope to see it closer. It’d be easier to just fold it up and tell yourself that it’ll pass, and that relationships end all the time. 

It’s not him that you cry over. Well, maybe some of it is. Rather, it’s that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going. Where you are. Finally, you’d built yourself a raft to get off the shore and go out to sea, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and it’s breaking apart right beneath you. And, stranded and alone in the water, you’ve got no way to get back to shore to build yourself another raft. You’re stranded, and the scariest bit is that you’re doing it all alone. You weren’t supposed to do this alone. You two made promises back then. 

You suppose that a promise is one of those things you were supposed to leave faith in back on shore. 

The raindrops are heavy over you. The fall of it roars against the ground, a torrent downpour. It’s not coupled with whipping wind or flashes of lightning—just straight, still falling. It’s a somber feeling no different from the gnawing in your chest. 

Like chimes, there’s a distant, gentle sound. Maybe water falling over creek rock, but it’s more like suggestion. A sweet sound that you shouldn’t even be able to hear over the rest of it, it’s as if it’s right in your ear. A whisper.  

You fix your blurry eyes with a wet sleeve. Rain falls right back into its place, but you see it: a silvery, whimsy haze. And the moths. They jump and call you, this time. Their glow bounces off the rainy mist against the grey of night’s arrival. Then, all you can hear is the whispering. Where you stand frozen, your feet beg to move. To follow them. 

So you do. 

Their entourage of moondust trails them where they go, wrapping you up and weaving between raindrop and space. You don’t worry where they’ll take you, or even try to wrap your head around this happening again. You just follow, mind glossed over and entranced with how beautiful it is. When you’d seen them before, it’d made you uneasy. Mostly because it looked so unearthly and unbelievable. But this time you just follow. 

A far-off voice, one oh-so-familiar, peaks through the haze. It’s not enough to stop you, but then you hear it again, louder and closer. 

You blink a few times. Once to break away the fog, and then twice to focus your eyes on Kai stood in front of you. His hair lays in wet spikes over his eyes and beads of rain trace the planes of his face. He’s as soaked as you. 

“Kai?” you say. Looking around you, you’ve ended up somewhere in the field between your houses and the creek. But you’ve got no recollection of walking here. Whatever that mist is, sentient or not, had swept you here.  

His voice is strained, but you appreciate hearing it. “Break up with him,” he tells you. 

In his eyes, as you search them, there’s stardust glowing like reflection. Your face twists up. “What?” you say, breath a puff of smoke ahead of you. Summer had come and gotten away from you so fast, and now it’s gone all cold again. 

“Break up with him,” he echos, face solemn. He looks ruffled. 

“Why?” you ask, “And why are you out here?” 

“Because I’m moving out today, and I think I deserve to at least see you before I go.” His eyes look over you. “And... your dad said you went down to the creek.” 

He’s moving out today, and you had no idea. And really, it’s your fault. You’d driven that wedge between the two of you. “I did break up with him.” 

Downpour fills his quiet for a few moments, his face swirling with emotion like the clouds above you. He nods. “Good.” 

There are a few more long minutes between you; just you two searching each other's faces, antsy to say so much that it bunches up in your chests and stalls. It’s what a summer of longing does to you. Even with Yeonjun, even trying to slowly chip away the stitching that had connected the two of you at the hip, you were helpless to stop the gnawing of the love you bear for him. Even just seeing him now, you feel those threads mending back up. God, why does it have to be so hard? 

He just looks at you. For a few beats, he just looks at you. There are so many questions in his eyes. They flit across and turn over, but all he settles on is, “Why?” 

There’s so much you want to tell him. Words pile up to the top, some threatening to spill over. But you know that if you tell him some of it, just to make up for all the time you’d missed out on together, it’ll all come crashing out. And you don’t think you want him to know just how much you accepted, the way you let yourself get treated. So, you shake your head and say, “It doesn’t matter.” 

Kai looks like he wants to push that issue, but whatever look he finds on your face deters him. “Come with me,” he pleads. “I want you to come with me.” 

Your throat tightens. Curling your arms around yourself harder, the rain only coming down on you harder, you say, “Kai, I want to. I want to. I just... I don’t want to freeload off you, because you’re doing great things, and I’m just...” Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, but they’re already as soaked as the rest of you. “I’m just going nowhere. And I don’t want to be a burden, or ever be the reason that you can’t do what you dream of. If staying here means that you become everything that you’re destined to do, then I’m happy with that, Kai. I am.” 

He shakes his head, stumbling toward you. “No, no you don’t get it,” he says, frantically taking your shoulders into big hands. Under his touch, every taut muscle goes slack. You melt. “You don’t get it. You are the music. Every single song is about you. Every single fucking song is about you. I want you to come with me, please. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you, and I thought you’d loved me too, and I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t do it alone.” 

He loves you. Kai loves you. The enormity of it rumbles the ground where you stand on legs you fear might just give in. You flex your fingers to combat the tears pricking your eyes. It doesn’t work; they brim and well up, spilling down over your cheeks. “What?” you say, voice softly breaking. “Kai, I didn’t...” 

“And just when I thought I finally had you, you left me,” he says, throwing a hand up beside him in a big gesture. “You left me! I woke up thinking you’d be there, and that maybe you loved me too, and you had left me. And then you threw me away for some piece of shit, and you stopped coming around.” His chest heaves for breaths. 

Your face contorts. That night, the one where you two had slipped up, you’d fallen asleep curled up against his chest on undiluted contentment. When you woke up, you had panicked. You thought he’d wake up and pretend it hadn’t happened, or he’d be uncomfortable, or even be disgusted and regretting. You couldn’t handle that, so you slipped out before he woke up. It’d been an attempt to protect your tender heart, but looking at the twitching of his lip now, you begin to think it’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. He thinks you used him and left him. Your stomach twists. Voice thick, you say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you, Kai. I thought you didn’t... I thought you didn’t see me that way. I was scared. I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

Brows knitted together, he says, “Thought I didn’t love you?” His hand cups your cheek, warm against the soft frozen skin he finds there. “I’ve... I’ve dreamed of you almost every night of my life. In my sleep, I see you, and you’re happy and glowing, and that damn... mist is all around you. I couldn’t get away from you even in my sleep.” 

Darting between his eyes, soft and reflecting your face back to you, it’s hard to breathe. Kai’s dreamt of you; he’s as sickly in love with you as you are him. Thunder claps, and the ground shakes, and the heavens open up above you, the trumpets belt, and you two are in love. Somewhere deep in your center, you feel it—your soul nodding yes. 

The mist. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “I saw it. That stuff, those moths. The stuff we saw back then.” 

“I did too,” he says, wet spikes of hair bouncing with a nod. “Not that long ago. It was the first time I saw it out of a dream since that day.” 

Back then, you two had only budding, innocent love for each other. Things hadn’t become mangled and lost to confused hearts or expectations. When they’d appeared to you, you hadn’t needed it. This time, you’d followed it. And it had led you here—somehow had led you right to the very spot you needed to so that every last piece might fall into place. For this moment to happen. You know why it did. 

“I’ll go with you, Kai. I’ll go wherever you go; I love you. I’ve loved you since forever,” you say, each and every word massive and lovely on your tongue. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.” 

So unlike the last times your mouth had met, he brings his mouth to yours with a dazzling clarity. No longer is it confused kisses; he locks his lips against yours with the urgency of so many years being unable to. Kai’s hands cradle your wet cheeks, hold you so tenderly into his kiss. His touch grounds you, makes the moment real. You melt into him—your fingers curled into his shirt as if holding him there so that he won’t disappear like something of an incorporeal dream. He sighs through his nose, kissing you harder. Even if it all were fake and this was nothing more than a feverish figment of your imagination, you think you could die happy just knowing this once. 

But it is utterly real, and utterly yours. You kiss him harder, too. 

When your lungs start to burn and plead for breath, you two pull away from each other. Your eyes flutter open to capture his. Warm and brown and the same ones you’ve stared into so many times before, but not like this, you sink into them. He runs his thumb over your cheek as he sinks into yours. His tongue darts out to lick lips painted with you. In the inches between you, space no longer feels heavy or charged with grievances. Every last unsaid thing had been answered. 

“I have my stuff up in the truck,” he says, breaths soft. Brown eyes dart around your face. “I’ll help you add your stuff to it.” 

You shudder out a breath. Add your stuff to it. A nervous energy settles down over you, but it doesn’t seem so bad if you’re doing it with him. Together.  

“Okay,” you whisper, a balmy secret just like the ones you used to share in small, giggly voices so many years ago. “Okay.” 

⚝⭒ 

Shivers seize you like jittering bones, all wrapped up in a blanket. The velour cushion seats beneath you have soaked up water and become damp, but Kai’s got the heater blasting. You wind around back roads, headlights illuminating the way ahead of you. Stray droplets whip in them, but nothing much. Isn’t it funny how the rain had just stopped like that? That’s just how the weather is, out here. You wonder how the weather might act wherever you’re headed. 

Your teeth chatter as if your jaw had its own will. The two of you had the windows down thinking that the wind might dry you off, but all it’s done is lap at your bitten cheeks. You reach down for the handle to crank it up. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you—either you’ll eventually dry off, or you can pull off at a rest area to change in a bathroom. The wet clothes are really not helping. 

With an arm up on the steering wheel, Kai turns his attention on you. You know that smile. “Cold?” he asks, eyes darting between your face and the road. With the hand he’s not got working the steering wheel, he runs fingers over your thigh. Soft, gentle massages, yes. The number it does on your core is absurd. Each mindless digging into your thighs and brush of his thumb, sparks sputter there. You’ve sat here, right in his passenger seat, so many times before. Day trips up to the lake, the one he’d joined your family camping at for so many summers, all the times he’d driven you to school in this truck, and even just a quick run down to a convenience store for a late-night snack. You’d deemed it your seat. But never once had you sat in it like this. Your heart does a flip. All those times you’d wish he’d reach over and do just this—a small gesture that would’ve been so big then. And it’s your reality, now.  

“Freezing,” you say. A brush of his fingers nearer the apex of your thighs sends you pressing them together and shifting in your seat. “But not everybody runs as hot as you, though, so.” 

His eyes catch the movement in just the split second he looked over to you. “Huh,” he says. He turns to look at you, his gaze flickering with something anew. Something that you’d only ever seen once before. “Is that it?” 

It’s hard to swallow. His fingers brush higher, and higher, feather-dustings of calloused fingertips that sends tingles shooting up your spine at the slightest suggestion of where he’s headed. “Yes,” you say, feigning indignance to cover the shiver that threatens to overtake you. When his fingertips dance at the waistband of your bottoms, it does so anyway. “Kai,” you say, blood hot in your veins. “You’re...driving.” 

His eyebrows pinch into a taunting furrow. “I am,” he says, nodding. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got us.” 

And he does; fingers slipping under the band of both your bottoms and your panties, he doesn’t even tear his eyes off the road. He’d driven these roads so much, you think he might be able to do it asleep. Even drawing a mewl from you with a brush over your clit, he doesn’t look away more than a quick glimpse at your pinkened cheeks. 

Two fingers dragging up your folds, right over the source of the mess. “You get excited so easily, huh?” he hums. “You like it when I play with you.” 

When he presses those fingers at your entrance, you can’t help but be taken back to that night. It echoes and reverberates through you. Long fingers, strong and punctual brushes against the sweet spot—he was criminally good with his fingers. Playing guitar did more for him than just music. He seemed to know exactly how to utilize those roughened fingers and trained flicks. Your muscles flicker as he abandons your hole for more brushes at your bud.  

Those teasing, sly touches turn to something more serious. His fingers roll over your clit, slow but enough to have you sighing and rolling your hips against the seat belt. But last time had gone just like this, him touching you and receiving nothing. He should feel good, too. “Shouldn’t you pull over?” you sigh, muscles taut. Your breaths come out shuddering and half-controlled, interrupted by the tightness that each delicious swirl provokes. The door takes the brunt of your grip, white-knuckling the interior. 

He laughs, a husky sound that is tinder to fire. He knows what you mean. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think I’m enjoying this plenty. I think I want to see you cum on my fingers again.” 

Fingers pinching and flicking faster, you grow breathy and whiny, hips rolling against the seatbelt and back into the seat. Your muscles, all the way down your thighs and deep in your belly, jump and twitch each time his fingers run over your clit in just the right spot—that tender spot that’s so good that it teeters on overwhelming. The kind that makes you hiss and then want more. “Shit, Kai,” you whine. “Right—there, keep going."  

He doesn’t answer with any teasing words. No, he just doubles down right at that angle and pressure, leaned back into his seat and driving as if he wasn’t fingers-deep in your panties right now. His sculpted profile at total ease—it does something for you. A delicious tightness curls its fingers over your center, promising a sugary ecstasy that you can’t help but chase. Bucking into his hands as best you can, you go quiet. Right there—right there, you feel it. The cusp. Your fingers brush over it, clenching around nothing and squeezing your thighs tight around him. Every last drop of blood in your body reaches for it, singing and dancing through your veins and making you dizzy. 

And then he stops. Your mouth drops open, whiplashed and helpless to its slipping away from you. You whittle your gaze into something sharp and turn to him. “What—why?” you complain. The tide slips further and further and further back, but you still taste sea salt on your tongue. Frustration sets in its place as you feel it go. Seriously, you’d been right there. “You’re so mean.” 

He slows and then with the clicking of the turn signal, he’s off the road and pulling the truck into park on a little secluded side road. Where the headlights pierce the pitch black, nothing but gravel and field surrounds you. He doesn’t kill the engine, instead pulling his hand free from you. 

Your heart, still stuttering with your lost orgasm, kicks back to life as he smears your slick over your mouth, dragging it over your lips and then taking his thumb to run it right over the plush of your mouth. “Am I?” he says, fingers taking your chin to meet your eyes with his. Endless hunger, pupils so blown that his eyes look black, pins you. “I don’t think you’ve seen mean yet, baby.” 

Darting your tongue out to clean your lips, you look at him through your eyelashes. “Show it to me, then.” 

Something dark passes over his face. It has your skeleton jumping out of your body. Then, he says, “Is that what you want? You want mean?” 

Brain gone to mush that can only really think about him touching you, a slow nod is all you can manage. 

The engine’s hum prevails for some long, thick seconds. And then, he tilts his head in a gesture. “Get in the back.” 

Holy shit. You want to sit there frozen in an overwhelming sort of excitement, but his seatbelt clicks undone and you’re set into motion. In a flurry of giggles and clumsy limbs, you climb up over the center console and into the backseat. He slips out of the front seat, not bothering to even kill the engine. 

The door beside you opens in a swirl of cold wind. In nothing more than a blink, a strong hand has both your wrists pinned to the cushions and your back flush against it. Nose-to-nose, his breath hot over your face. “I’ve got plenty of ideas as to how I can warm you up.” 

You appreciate each other’s faces for a beat more, you looking up at him big-eyed and waiting. Kai breaks the moment to attack your neck in a procession of bites and kisses. Your mouth falls into a silent sound. 

“You know,” he says, free hand working your pants off. His eyes are trained on you, though. “I thought about doing this to you all summer. Touching you again.” He moves on to your top, pushing the fabric up until your chest is freed, clad in soft cotton. He eats the sight up. You want to reach down and cup the back of his head or feel his hair between your fingers as he presses his mouth against the soft beginning of your cleavage, but he’s got your wrists firmly planted. So much so, that you wonder exactly how he’s got you so secure with just one hand. Kai is strong, but maybe you hadn’t seen just how strong. Your skin aches under the purple bites he decorates you in. The sight of him—face in your chest and marking you up so lazily—has your teeth abusing your bottom lip. Whatever sounds you might make otherwise would be embarrassing. Kai lifts his eyes to you. “And I think you thought of me, too. Didn’t you?” 

“Oh, god, yes,” you say, writhing beneath him. He’s going so slow. You want him all over you. “So much.” 

He likes that. He takes your pebbled nipple into his mouth through the fabric. Soft grazes of teeth and sucks, you’re burning all over. When he pulls back, he’s left you dark wet patches when the bra had only just dried against your body heat. “Good,” he rasps, taking his big hands demanding and hungry over your torso. They swallow your frame up, soothing skin but lighting it aflame all the same. “Good girl.” 

You never thought just words could unravel you, but those did the job. Not a gasp, nor a sucking in of breath—no, you go silent and brainless, fumbling for rational thought. 

The dropping of your jaw has Kai delighted. “You’re so pretty,” he says. In a swift and powerful hoist, he’s tugging you down the cushions toward him with greedy fingers. He’s got your thighs pressed up to your chest. You’re bent right in half. 

Out of breath, you huff out, “You too.” 

A quick laugh falls from his mouth, lips pulled into a smug tilt. He nips at your calf up by his face. “So sweet, it almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.” Reaching down for your panties, he pulls back on the suffocating press for only enough time to drag them up your legs. Those get discarded somewhere on the floor. Who cares about that right now, though? All you can register is the metallic clinking of his belt being undone. It’s got your nervous system twisting up. 

And, those words. Electricity shoots bolts of pure, sizzling revery into your core. What I’m about to do to you. You imagine a great deal of things that he might mean, but still, you think that none could hold a candle against the promise his voice held in saying it. 

Kai presses his body to your thighs and hooks your calves over his shoulders, and it all becomes real. The press of his heavy cock to your folds, the digging of his fingers into your outer thighs, his pretty eyes sparkling with something feral. As real as it gets—more real than anything you’ve ever felt in the entirety of your life. Your hands find perch flattened to his broad chest. 

The position leaving you two no option but to look right into each other, he holds your gaze and begins slow drags of his hot length up and down your slit. Tantalizing, awful, awful drags. When his tip nudges your eager clit, you jolt. And then he does it again. And again. 

“Kai,” you mewl. A press against your hole has you hopeful, and he lingers there for a moment, but doesn’t give it to you. Can’t he just fuck you? You’ve never been more pitifully in need of something in your life. 

“Shh.” His ruts get more daring, smearing your slick up onto your belly. “Take it.” 

You wiggle your toes in the air and make passes at arching yourself into him in search of better friction. He’s got you pressed so suffocatingly into the seat that it does absolutely nothing for you. In fact, he holds your harder and changes tack so that your thighs press together. At the very apex of them, his weeping cock slips through the seam. 

Pressing his cheek into your calf, he watches you. Every gasp and shaky inhale, he watches. It spurs his rutting on, sticky sounds and pants eating up the air. Your nails claw at his hands as, finally, a knot tightens in your core. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe. He fucks your thighs harder. Faster. Every nudge at your clit and hole becomes euphoric. “Kai, baby—I’m gonna—” 

Just as furiously easy as last time, he rips it all away from you. The rushing away of the buzzing and promise of shaking thighs—he takes it from you again. It brings prickling tears to your eyes. “Kai?” you hiss. “Again?” 

His eyes aren’t playful. He pulls your calves back over his shoulders, handling your hips into a better position to press his cock right at your entrance as if you weigh nothing. Face utterly straight, he says, “I don’t think you deserve it, do you? Not after what you did with Yeonjun.” 

A swallow goes down your throat hard. He presses himself just a bit harder into you. Not in yet, but right there. 

When he does begin sliding in, the stretch of it... You cling to him and squirm between him and the warm cushions behind you. Each inch is a heady feeling, all the way up to the hilt of him. He shudders a controlled breath. “You’re so fucking tight, though,” he grits out. “Did he not fuck you right?” 

Slaps of skin bounce off the car interior and between your bodies. He starts off at a brutal pace; you know it’s meant to make your brain go foggy. Squeezing your eyes closed, you manage, “I... didn’t fuck him.” It comes out strangled, voice bouncing as he fucks you into the car seat. 

Thumb tugging your bottom lip down and then dipping into your mouth, he watches the show of your ecstasy down to every last detail. “Yeah?” he says, voice shaking and almost desperate. “Always thinking of me, huh? Such a good little princess. You know exactly where your heart belongs.”  

You want to answer him, even just with a whine or moan. You try to. But with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, enough to pin it to the floor of your mouth, it’s not gonna happen. He tastes salty in your mouth. 

His truck consists of his grunts and whines, and your taut groans for some moments that seem to stretch forever. The planes of his groin grind against your clit when he delivers occasional pointed rolls, but mostly it’s just an animalistic, feverish dancing of your two sweaty bodies, holds growing more frantic the closer you get.  

Thumb wet with saliva; he frees your mouth. The hand trails slowly down your face and your chin, brushing feather touches, until he finds your neck. 

Your eyes fly open, wide. He pressed his fingers into your neck—no real pressure yet, he looks at you through damp strands of dangling hair and says, “Want my fingers around your neck?” His thumb brushes over the buzzing pulse point there. 

“Yes,” you grit out, body bouncing and back raw with friction against the coarse cushion’s surface. Your breath stutters, your mind stutters. Even your blinks stutter, eyelids too lazy to keep up. “Please.” 

The pressure of his fingers there—it frightens you and has you tightening around him at the same time. But you would trust nobody more with your life than Kai. 

He presses his cheek to your calf to indulge in the sight of you like this: underneath him, folded in two, nowhere to go but to take his pistoning hips, cheeks blazing, and his fingers pressed into your windpipe. If the way he becomes sloppier and more desperate in his tempo has anything to say for it, it does something for him. 

“Gonna be my pretty little girlfriend, huh?” he says. His voice is tight—so is your belly. You’re both so close. Hopefully, this time he’ll let you cum. “Take you to every show; show you off to everybody. Fuck.” 

Brain like static and swimming with a pinched flow of oxygen, you slur your words. “You’re—hah—gonna have other girls all over you.” 

The taunting, split-second raise of his brows flips your belly. You tighten him again. If he keeps hitting that spot, tip ramming into the soft spot deep inside you that he’d taken such delicate care of finding last time, you’re going to burst into sparkling flame and firework. He growls, “Well, I’ll just have to knock you up so that they know I’m yours, huh?” 

Holy shit. You like the sound of that. Your nails dig into his wrist around your neck, but you cry out a pitchy, “Yes!” 

“Oh, you like that?” Kai releases your throat to take both your hips. You gulp for air, finding nothing but the thick air of sex and humid breaths, at the opportunity. He’s ramming into you like he’s found a purpose. “Isn’t this the perfect position to do it? Get you pregnant?” 

With every last bit of brain power you’ve got, teetering on the edge excruciatingly close to salvation, you groan a long, hoarse sound. “Fuck, yes! Please, Kai, inside—” A hot trail of tears roll down your temples. 

It’s all he’s got to hear to still inside you. His growl rumbles deep in his chest, holding you in place and filling you with his hot cum deep in your cunt. That feeling, coupled with his short grinds against your clit as he fucks his seed deeper, takes your soul by sinful claws and crumbles it down into nothing. You burst into a shaking, whimpering peak, sucking your lips into your mouth to bare through the sheer twisting of your insides and the flame that consumes up your thighs and cunt. 

He falls on you heavy, face in your neck. Warm kisses against your clammy skin meld with your slow floating down, the two of you a beautiful, nasty picture of fucked out. He stays right inside you—the absolute stillness of him, you think he has no plans of pulling out any time soon. His long fingers card through your sweaty locks of hair. 

Finally, he presses himself off you. You get a glimpse of the window behind him—fogged up and filthy with your affairs. Anybody to see the truck from the outside would know exactly what went on inside, but right now, you don’t care. Not one bit. Your panted breaths drag in nothing but musk and thick, hot air. The drumbeat in your chest tells you that, despite how you feel ripped straight from your body, you are very much still alive. More alive than ever. 

“Warm?” he says, pushing sticky hair off his forehead. He’s a mess, too. His hair is ruffled with your touch, his clothes rumpled the same, beads of sweat rolling down the planes of his cheeks and neck, and his eyes a lazy smolder. As much as he looks like sex personified, a soft smile twitches at his lips. 

You snort. You can’t help but feel giddy, here with him. You’re with him. Nothing has ever felt more right. Unplugged when he pulls out of you, your mess trickles down onto the seat below you. “Yeah,” you say. “Very.” 

Warm is not enough to begin to describe how you feel. In your ears, you hear whisperings. Soft and gentle. Perhaps it was divine intervention, or the fates lending you their word, or maybe just rational thought. It says: 

Home. You are home. 

✎୭ ashlynn's note how do we feel about this pair? i really didn't mean for this to get so long, but i ended up RLLY liking their chemistry. i had to do their story justice. also, i finished this with kai as a guitarist and then his drummer performance came out... hmm.

﹙🏷️ ﹚@lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[milktiicup]

hi friend!! o(^▽^)o

i loooovvveee the way you write sm!!

maybe Mr. Silvair or Mr. Scarletella nsfw hcs? (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

if not its fine bb!! luv u ♡

mr. silvair n-sfw headcanons!

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i love u to the moon and back. mwah mwah mwah. i went with mr. silvair if that's okay!!!! >w< i'm lacking mr silvair content hehehe while my acc is swimming in scarletella ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

🌊 At first, it started as an experiment, an act he had grown interested in. Something to keep you happy while in his care, and gauge how these types of things work; how they make you feel, how they make you smell, how they make you act. And then it became something to pass time, something he grew addicted to; the sounds that fall from your mouth, the way you grasp onto him and plead for him.

🌊 He grows addicted to the way you act, the way you writhe in the restrains. Indulge him in being a pretty little thing tied up, he’ll indulge you. 

🌊 He loves the idea of pushing you to your limits, not to break you, but to see how much you trust him to bring you back from the edge. The subtle interplay between your resistance and surrender is a game he never tires of. 

🌊 He’s intrigued by how you behave when stripped of defenses, both physically and emotionally. What does your body say when you’re too overwhelmed to think? 

🌊 Eventually, he wants something new. He’s interested in the act of sex- but how do you, yourself get off without him? He wants to see every part, every thing, every sound, every twitch of your eye or your leg until he has enough to finally give you what you want. 

🌊 His ego inflates like a balloon- just because he didn’t understand his own attraction, didn’t mean he didn’t know the way your eyes look over his body. He gives you all of him, because he knows you like it, all in return for all of you; your heart, your body, your soul. The idea of someone else even attempting to “understand” you in the way he does is laughable- and intolerable.

🌊 He’s not cruel enough to leave you in the state you’re left in- chained up, bruised, bitten, mental fortitude crumbling- he’ll put you all back together, with bandages and soft pets to your head, mimicking Mr. Crawling- he knows you inside and out. He’ll bring you back perfectly.

[mochiwonz]

― YOU'RE JUST A STRANGER s.jaeyun

PAIRING. fem!reader x nonidol bf!jake CONTENT. angst , jake is kind-of a jerk (╥﹏╥) , breakup , cursing WORD COUNT. 1.2k NOTE. omg i've wanted to write an angsty fic for awhile so this is me finally doing it :3 the plot is kinda ass so i apologize T v T pls remember this is all just fiction !! hope you enjoy ♡

You were convinced that Jake was the best boyfriend anyone could ever have. He was insanely good-looking, dressed well, loved his family and friends, and had a loving personality. Jake always made time for you and never went a day without checking up on you. He even told you that he would marry you one day and that you guys would have three kids and one dog. Frankly, he was really just perfect.

Well, until he wasn't.

When you first met Jake, you guys were sophomores in highschool. You guys had met in your science class and ended up becoming close friends. After growing closer to him, you realized you had some pretty strong feelings for him. And surely enough, he felt the same way about you, too.

So in Junior year, he confessed to you and of course you said yes. How could you not? Throughout the next year, you felt as if life couldn't be any better. Your first love also loved you, and he was also possibly the most charming man on earth!

However, things quickly changed.

Fast forward a year and a half later, you guys graduated and quickly moved in together. But Jake was no longer the same. He was no longer the sweet boy that showed his love and affection for you. Instead, he was closed off. He never started conversations with you, you always had to be the one to start it. Jake was just becoming more distant.

Why? Why was your own boyfriend distancing himself from you? Did you do something wrong?

It was now 7:40 pm and Jake had still not answered your texts. Jake always answered, or well- he used to always answer.

baby i'm omw to the grocery store and i'll make us some dinner tonight <3

jake i just saw a dog that looks so much like layla lol

jake?? i haven't heard from you since you left this morning, r u okay?

i'm not trying to bother u jake but i'm rly worried pls atleast txt me back :(

You didn't know what to think. Was he ignoring you on purpose? Did you accidentally make a mistake? Was he falling out of love with you? Was he cheating on you?

No way, he couldn't. Yes he had been distant, but no, Jake would never. You wish he could just give you an explanation, at least.

You were just about to call him until you heard footsteps entering the apartment.

Jake's finally home.

You walk over to Jake and worryingly bombard him with questions while hugging him.

"baby...how're you? where were you today? did your phone die-"

He cuts you off.

"quit being so fucking nosey y/n." he says, sounding pissed off.

What? Did you just hear that right? And why did he sound and look so mad?

"jake...what? I was just worried..." you tell him, your voice laced with a bit of shock.

"i'm a grown ass man, i can take care of myself." he responds, not looking at you while pushing you away from his chest.

He quickly walks over to the fridge and grabs himself a cup of coffee- coffee that you made for him, hoping maybe he'd thank you or acknowledge you.

Not to your surprise, he just grabs it and walks to the sofa. Not one glance, not one "thank you". Nothing.

"hey jake, did i do something wrong? if so i'm sorr-"

And again, he cuts you off.

"can you just shut up please, you didn't do anything wrong." he tells you, and you're not convinced. How could you be?

"okay well then why have you been such an ass towards me? please just give me a fucking explanation" you say while sitting beside him on the sofa.

You notice how he moves away from you, and you can't help but feel a little frustrated.

"maybe it's because i'm sick of you always bothering me y/n."

Bothering him? You've only ever tried to care for him. Fuck, you can feel your eyes getting watery.

The room feels cold, even though the heater is on. There is no longer that warmth- the comforting warmth that you oh so loved. Things had really changed, and you really fucking hated it.

"bothering you? jake i'm your girlfriend, all i'm trying to do is love and care for you. i-"

"okay then just stop. stop loving and caring for me." he says in a louder tone of voice.

Now you're really frustrated. What the fuck is happening with Jake?

"what the fuck is wrong with you? jake, what the fuck?"

"nothing is fucking wrong with me y/n. maybe i'm just tired of your ass. maybe i'm just not in love with you anymore."

Did he just- oh. So you were right. He really doesn't love you anymore.

"jake you could've just told me you didn't love me anymore. you could've just told me so i didn't have to be put through this shit, and so that you could've just left." you tell him, your eyes filled with tears.

"i couldn't tell you because i know you would fucking cry like a crybaby."

You felt your heart break into two. The man you loved, your once sweet boyfriend, was now treating you like you were nothing to him.

And in Jake's eyes, you really were nothing to him anymore.

"jake what the fuck i-" you try to speak but you're choked up. And fuck, you feel the first tear fall and next thing you know- you're sobbing.

"see, look- you're crying. i knew you'd fucking cry. and shit, you're an ugly crier too. i can't keep up with your shit anymore y/n, i'm tired. you always treat me like i'm a baby, making me food and shit. just stop. i'm leaving and this is over. we're over. bye y/n" he says while getting up from the couch.

You feel numb. Your first love just stabbed you, right in the heart.

Before you could say anything back, he'd already grabbed his bag and jacket and was on his way to the front door. And this time, you knew he wasn't going to come back.

You quickly get up and run to the front door, stopping him in his tracks.

"jake can you atleast look at me please-" you tell him and he listens and looks at you. However, his stare is emotionless.

"please jake can i hug you one last time?...please" you ask, voice shaky from your sobbing.

"sure whatever" he responds in an annoyed tone of voice.

You slowly bring yourself closer to him and rest your head in his chest and wrap your arms around him. But you didn't feel that same warmth. You didn't feel any sort of love or comfort that you hoped you would.

He just stood there. He didn't wrap his arms around your waist and kiss the top of your head like he used to. Of course he wouldn't. You just missed the old jake.

"okay y/n that's enough. i'll get going" he tells you while unwrapping your arms.

You can't find any words to say to him, you really can't. You just stand there, looking and feeling like a complete mess.

"bye" jake says as he walks out the door.

You don't say "bye" back to him, because you can't.

You're just standing there, frozen, numb. You just watch him as he leaves. You watch him leave the apartment as your boyfriend, for the last time ever.

And then, the door closes. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore and you weren't his girlfriend anymore. And no you wouldn't be calling him your ex boyfriend or your first love.

If anything, you would call him a complete and total stranger.

part 2 is here and my other works are here ! pls reblog if you enjoyed :))

[okiedokrie]

All Is Fair In Love And War Pt.1

Summary: Joshua is nothing if not determined. If he wants something, he'll get it; not that he even had to try before. But sometimes, like Icarus, he flies a little too close to the sun. But hey, all is fair in love and war!

Characters/Pairing: Aphrodite Incarnation!Joshua x Fem!Detective!Very Mortal!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, crack, angst if you really squint

AUs/Trope Info: Greek God!AU, Partners In Solving Crimes, Strangers to Lovers, "time isnt linear" trope, "holy shit im kind of obsessed with you" trope

Word Count: 3,194 (Full fic is around 10k)

Warnings: Depiction of a crime scene (gore, blood, gun, conspiracy), depiction of drug use, character death (major and minor), smut warnings in the next part

Rating: 18+

A/N: I decided to split this into parts since I'm not confident ill be able to finish this within the deadline, this is part of the The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions! This is just the first part, so if you enjoy it, please consider signing up for the taglist. Thank you!!

In the summer of 2000, Joshua Hong was almost five years old. People always commented on how pretty he was for a kid, that he’d surely grow up to be a very handsome man.

Which is why it was a tragedy when he died from a freak truck accident.

Yes, Joshua Hong died at the age of five. For like, 10 minutes.

The doctors called it a miracle - a small child should not have survived a whole six of the twelve truck wheels, but somehow he was resuscitated, much to his parents’ delight.

This incident caused two things to change dramatically - Californetherlands now has stricter trucking laws and Joshua woke up to memories of literally being Aphrodite.

Throughout the years, from that fateful summer day to the present day, Joshua flopped back and forth between believing that the memories were just fever dreams and genuinely considering that he may be a reincarnation of the goddess. But ever since he got to hone his powers, he’s been more inclined to believe the latter.

By the age of 28, he has mastered the art of seduction. No, not sleeping with people constantly. It was more so the art of getting people to say ‘yes’ to everything he asked of them.

This made Joshua a very powerful and influential figure in Los Amsterdam; You see, the way he dealt wasn’t by out-witting people or being richer than them. He dealt in favors. If you wanted to be a popstar, he’d introduce you to a famous producer, and get you a record deal that would solidify your career - all for the low, low price of free.

In turn, you’d owe him, like the many powerful people who owed him large favors.

Joshua found himself in downtown LA, in the club that he owned, just under his penthouse. He enjoyed playing the guitar and performing for his patrons, everyone seemingly captivated by his voice, or his beauty, whichever one caught their attention first. He finally strummed the last chord of his song, enjoying the applause of the crowd as the DJ started to play the usual club music. Just as he was about to retreat to the bar, a feminine voice stopped him.

“Joshua! Hey!” She said, hair bouncing over her new fur coat, jumping excitedly, calling him over.

Joshua smiled widely at her - she was one of the people he had helped start her career as a singer. He didn’t do much other than introduce her to the CEO of her current label, it was her natural talent that got her this far.

“Ah, Diana, good to see you!” He said, going over to meet her in a friendly hug, the kind that didn’t touch at all. “How has being a singer treated you? Any good news?” He said, making small talk with an old acquaintance.

“Oh please,” she started, her new haughty attitude showing, “It’s all over the news! I just got nominated for a Grammy!” She said in a sing-song tone. Joshua just nodded Truth be told, he didn’t really have much interest in pop music, but he did try to match her enthusiasm.

“That’s great! I knew you’d make it big.” he said, remembering the first time she came to him, a girl in clothes that almost looked like rags, now decked out in every designer brand you could think of. “So, what brings you back here then? Surely you already have everything you ever wanted?” He said lightheartedly. Even if all of Joshua’s connections owed him favors, it was quite uncommon for them to come back to him after having achieved their dreams.

“Well,” She said, her old, meek bashfulness coming to the surface. “I just wanted to see you again, to thank you for what you have done for me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear. “And I know no matter what favor I do for you in return, I could never break even for just how much you’ve impacted my life. So, thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua genuinely felt relieved to hear her say that - usually, people’s pride and greed got in the way of them acknowledging those who truly helped them along the way, but as he suspected, this girl still had a soul so pure. “Let's get some drinks by the bar and chat some more, yeah? My treat.” He offered, which she gladly took, the conversation between them flowed naturally, Joshua enjoying her tales of success.

It was an hour after the club closed that Diana decided it was time to head home. Joshua offered to see her off, like the gentleman he was, and so they walked to the sidewalk, her hand around his arm.

Joshua opened the taxi door for her, offering her a few bills in cash to cover the fare, “It was nice seeing you again, hopefully, you’ll make time to catch up with me in the future.” he said through the taxi window.

“Yeah, I hope I get the chance to see you again soon. Goodnight Joshua.” She said as she rolled up the taxi window.

Joshua watched the taxi drive until the end of the block, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Then, another car intercepted her in the intersection.

It happened so quickly, too quickly for Joshua to even register the new car’s window sliding down, holding a gun out to the taxi Diana was in. Gunshots echoed through the street, the sound of tires popping and glass shattering but all Joshua could make out was the sound of two sets of four tires screeching against the concrete. Diana’s taxi collided with a nearby lamppost, the taxi flattening and curling around it.

That was the last time Joshua saw her alive.

It was all over the news “Beloved Grammy-nominated rising star, Undyne, passed at a downtown intersection in a successful assassination.” Headlines went crazy with her story, telling her life before her short-lived success as a pop star.

The police were on her case, and the street cameras identified a black car with a non-existent plate number. they couldn’t find the people who owned it, but they did have enough evidence to call it a homicide.

Joshua, being close to the scene at the time when it happened, was one of the key witnesses to the whole case.

Currently, Joshua is in the waiting area of the police station, waiting for the detective on the case to lead him to the interrogation room where he will give his statements. He was just mindlessly scrolling through his phone when a voice snapped him out of it.

“Mr. Hong? Correct?” One of the officers asked him. He nodded to confirm it, repeating his full name. The officer just nodded too, “Okay, please follow me. Detective L/n will be there to ask a few questions.” He turned to the direction of the interrogation room, Joshua trailing behind him quietly.

The officer stopped in front of a door, “Here we are, just head on in.” He said, nodding at him. He walked into the interrogation room, the chilly air making goosebumps rise on the surface of his skin, the thin cardigan he wore did nothing to shield him from the cold. He took a seat at the chair facing the door, poking at the cold metal table as he waited.

“Good Morning Mr. Hong, I’m Detective L/n. I’m here to ask you a few questions, everything said here will be transcribed as evidence for this case, do you consent to this?” You started, taking the seat in front of him, your tone was very professional, as he expected, you didn’t even bother with pleasantries other than introducing yourself, which didn’t bother Joshua. He confirms his consent verbally, politely smiling at you with his hands clasped over the table.

“Great, I’d like to ask a few questions about you first.” You said, taking out your folder for the case, “You’re Joshua Hong, born on the 30th of December, 1995. You own the club downtown where your place of residence is also. Is all of that correct?” Joshua confirms all of the information is correct.

“You can just call me Joshua, by the way, Mr. Hong makes it seem like I’m someone important.” He said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

You just nod, writing something down in your notebook, “What was your relationship with Diana Kamatayan?” You asked, reviewing the official file which states that she is one of Joshua’s ‘clients’.

You were well aware of how the king of Los Amsterdam does his business, favors for favors. That’s how he got this far, and if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, he’ll take away everything he gave you. You knew asking for Joshua’s help would make this investigation go quicker, but that would mean you’d owe him.

Owing Joshua Hong anything is a dangerous position to be in.

So while you have him in this interrogation room, you’re going to try to milk every bit of information out of him while it’s free.

“Well,” he started, getting comfortable in his seat, “She was one of my clients, I’m sure your file on me already knew that. Other than a professional relationship, I don’t really have one with her. That night was the first time I’ve seen her in a little over a year, actually.”

You nod, the timeline matches up, “And why did you meet her that night?” You ask next, trying to get more out of the nature of this last meeting.

“She approached me while I was in my nightclub. I was just about to turn in for the night when she came up to me to catch up. She thanked me for introducing her to a producer and wanted to catch up.”

Joshua really wasn't giving any information for free, as the interrogation went on you could only collect information you already knew. He didn't reveal any more than a simple google search did.

You drop your file folder onto the table, where Joshua's posture remained calm, cool, collected across from you, the small, charming smile still on his face.

“Did you get what you needed, Detective?” Joshua asks politely, tilting his head with his query.

“All I got was everything we already knew.” You sighed, rolling your shoulders in your seat. You turn in your seat, facing Joshua head-on once more. “Joshua, you are one of the most powerful and influential men in Los Amsterdam. We need your help in solving this case. All our leads have gone cold. We need your connections.”

Joshua smirked, the only time his expression changed from the relaxed and polite smile he had for the rest of the interview. His posture relaxed, leaning forward over the table, he placed his palms down on the cool metal surface, and said, “You do know what that would mean, right? The price you’d have to pay?”

You nodded, “I know all too well.”

“Asking me for a favor would mean that you’d owe me, do you think you can afford to pay that price?” He raised his eyebrows, you’d think your eyes deceive you when his irises glowed a soft gold—tilting his head in an almost teasing manner, taunting you.

Your breath hitched as you looked back at the one-way glass, knowing your co-workers were watching every detail of this interaction. “I promise I’ll deliver what I owe you. Just- please help us.” You said, not being able to look at him directly in the eyes.

He straightens his back once more, his polite smile returning to his face. “It’s settled then, I look forward to working with you Miss.”

Driving through the streets of a somewhat more affluent neighborhood, you stop in front of a well-known party den. There are plenty in Los Amsterdam, but this one was popular because of their ‘free-love’ policy.

Essentially, if you want to fuck, every surface is available to borrow for the duration.

You don’t look forward to entering the den, especially since you don’t know which surfaces are good to touch, but your partner beside you seems to be relaxed and content to visit such a place.

“God, I haven’t seen Jackson in forever. I hope he’s still having the time of his life here.” Joshua said with his bright eye-smile. You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowing in disgust. How could he find a place like this enjoyable? You don’t understand how the minds of party-goers work.

“Okay, how exactly is visiting a party den supposed to help with our investigation?” You finally ask him, he refused to elaborate on how relevant this location was when you met up with hiim, or during the entire car ride to said location.

“Well, Jackson still owes me, and he’s Diane’s ex’s first producer. If there’s anyone with a motive to get her killed, it’s her ex. I asked him to get Johnny drunk enough to pass out in one place. Now you have the perfect stage to corner and investigate him!” He said, with a smile on his face as if his plan didn’t just open up a whole new can of worms for you.

“You do know it’s illegal for me to just interrogate him without a warrant right? He might lawyer up if he figures out we’re onto him.” You said running a hand through your hair.

“Which is why I got you this,” he pulls out a skimpy party dress and matching heels from his duffle bag, “We blend in with the party-goers, that way you’re not interrogating him, you’re just having a conversation.”

“Joshua Hong you are insane.” You said, tone raising, “I’m not walking into a sex den looking like a hooker!”

“Don’t worry, we’re just trying not to stand out, please, just trust me.” He said handing the outfit over to you. You think over his words, it would be wise not to draw too much attention to yourself. If you made it obvious that you were a cop you’d have to resort to improvising.

You were never good at improvising.

Joshua gave you the decency to turn away while you changed, he was already in his usual relaxed suit that already made him look like a pimp, so he was already dressed for the occasion.

You both step out of the car, your heels clacking on the pavement below you. How Joshua managed to find your shoe size is in itself impressive, but you don’t have the time to dwell on that.

You both enter the bustling house filled to the brim with people indulging in their vices, whether it was alcohol, drugs, the ‘free-love’. It was a mess of bodies and fluids that you’d rather not inspect closely.

Joshua expertly weaved through the crowd, parting it like Moses did to the red sea. He didn’t have any difficulty locating Jackson Wang, the host of these parties.

“Jackson!” Joshua called out, the man was sitting in one of the many loveseats, a can of beer in hand and two ladies under his arms, giggling and getting very comfortable with him.

Jackson squints over the flashing lights, eyes widening in recognition after seeing Joshua. “Joshua! My man! Glad you finally made it! Got to say though, that favor of yours was an odd one. But you’ll be able to find him in my room. You know the way.” He waves him off, resuming to talking to the women clinging onto him.

You follow after Joshua, quickly climbing a few sets of stairs to get to the third floor, the entirety of the third floor was just Jackson’s room. He made sure to lock the door behind the both of you when you guys arrived.

The floor was far quieter than the floors below you, and less of a mess than them too. This room felt like Jackson’s actual home, and not like a party den.

Joshua spots Johnny stumbling around the room, nursing a liquor bottle- a few of them.

“Joshua we can’t interrogate him when he’s like this, he can barely even stand!” You said, waving your arms in front of you to point at the inebriated man.

“That’s not a problem, watch this.” Joshua takes long and purposeful strides toward him, once he finally reaches him, he takes his face in his hands and stares directly into his eyes.

You watch in awe and slight confusion, until Joshua speaks up, “You want to tell us everything we want to know, and you will be sober as a priest while you do so.”

Suddenly the haziness in Johnny’s eyes faded in an instant, his brown eyes now have a golden ring around the irises, like a puppet on a string.

“What did you need to know?” Johnny says, no longer under the influence of alcohol.

“Joshua, what did you do to him?” You ask in slight horror.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry about it.” He said, “Continue your questioning on him, detective, if we spend any more time here Jackson’s gonna think we’re having sex here.”

Not wasting any more time you ask Johnny, “Are you aware that Diane Kamatayan had been assassinated? Do you know any information about that?” Johnny squints before his eyes widen in recognition, “Diane, yeah, her, we dated a bit. I was obsessed with her. But she broke it off when she got big. Yeah, I’m pissed, but instead of doing anything healthy with my time I just chose to shit-talk her on Twitter and drown in alcohol. When I heard the news about her passing, I lost it, went straight here where Jackson just kept handing me bottle after bottle with no questions.”

You look at Joshua, raising an eyebrow, not much of a motive if he didn’t even contact her directly in the entire duration of their time as exes.

You shake your head, back to square one then.

“It didn’t help that she started dating the old geezer of a producer of hers.” Johnny said, eyebrows furrowing in frustration, “That whore, she probably got big because that sleaze of a producer gave her banger after banger for sucking his dick or something, tch.” he said, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms.

“I’m pretty sure it was him who killed her too.”

You and Joshua look at each other in shock, eyes meeting for a second, almost as if communicating telepathically.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, cautious around the increasingly irritated Johnny.

“He’s always been a greedy bastard, worked with him before. Wanted to claim all the royalties of my song, so I sued him. Pretty sure he got threatened by how rich Diane was getting for that hit.” Johnny spat, distaste seeping into every word he said, “Now Diane is dead, and the bastard is getting married to some Slavic model, most likely cashing in all those royalty cheques.”

You and Joshua nod at each other. Joshua snaps his fingers, it’s almost as if snipping a puppet off its strings, the glow around Johhny’s eyes dims and disappears, suddenly slumping over the seat, stumbling drunkenly like he did when you found him.

“Okay, we have a lead.”

[gilbertscurls]

glimpse of us ➵ matt sturniolo

summary: caught between hesitation and hope, you listen as matt paints a vivid picture of the love you could share—if only you were ready to take the leap.

He could see the war going on inside you, your conflicted emotions written all over your face. He knew you liked him, maybe even loved him, but that you were too scared to take that final step, to make your relationship official.

He hated seeing you so unsure, and he wished he could just reach inside you and pull out all your doubts and insecurities, to make you see how perfect you could be together.

“Y'know,” he said, his voice easy and relaxed, “if we were dating, I'd probably cook you breakfast every morning. Pancakes, eggs, whatever you wanted. And I'd make sure your coffee was always how you liked it, all frothy and warm.”

He chuckled and shrugged, like he was just casually bringing up a random topic. “And I'd probably leave dumb little notes all over the place for you to find, just… reminding you how much I care about you.”

“I'd also get you flowers. Not just on special occasions, but just… out of the blue, to tell you I was thinking about you. I'd probably buy you teddy bears too, or cute little stuffed animals that I'd leave on the bed so you can hug them when I'm not around.”

He spoke softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hip bone. “And I'd definitely text you dumb memes and funny videos that I know would make you laugh. But only after I'd call you in the morning to wish you a good day.”

“And I'd take you on dates, like real dates. Not just to your favorite coffee shop, but to nice restaurants and… oh, I'd take you to the theater. I know how much you love musicals, and I'd even sit through the entire thing without complaining, even if I'm bored out of my mind.”

He chuckled and shook his head, like he was imagining the scenario. “And I'd hold your hand the whole time, and buy you expensive popcorn, and probably make out with you during the boring parts.”

“And I'd make sure you were taken care of,” he said, his voice growing serious. “I'd make sure you had everything you needed, and everything you wanted. And if you ever had a bad day, or something was bothering you, I'd listen. I'd hold you, and I'd tell you it was alright, because that's what boyfriends are supposed to do.”

He looked away for a moment, as if lost in thought, before turning back to you. “But I suppose that's all irrelevant because, well... we're not dating.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike